Ready World
by Eilwynn
Summary: "Any little girl needs a fairy godmother, Mary." Lily decides her daughter needs a godmother. Raised knowing about magic, Acacia Potter starts experimenting with it early on, and in the process she discovers a spirit trapped within her head, the voice of a morbid older man... Shortly after this discovery, she starts undergoing training at Hogwarts School. (A FemHarry story.)
1. Book One

_Author's Note: I at least have year one completely written. Expect some delays between years. I wait until a year is finished before I start posting chapters for it. Currently, I plan on continuing Acacia's story even past Hogwarts, but that could change in the future..._

_I've been working on different versions of this story for years, so finally posting something has me kind of excited._

* * *

**Book One**

_Chapter One: Start of Life_

At first, the world is dark, warm, and moist. She is safe, enclosed snug and cozy within a tiny space, and she sleeps peacefully for she knows she is loved.

Then there is motion. The world is ready for her.

She feels everything suddenly contract painfully around her, and then she is _shoved, _out into bright lights and cold air and loud noise. There is a female cry, unintelligible and strange, and the world slowly evolves into a blur of flickering light across a dark ceiling. Then a face appears before her, lined and strict, so much bigger than she is. This is the woman who was crying out. She cannot understand what the woman is saying to her. She sees the woman look up, showing her chin, and respond in strange babble to another, unseen female voice.

She is lifted up and carried by giant hands The world is strange to her, and the wet to her skin is freezing, and she doesn't understand what's going on. She doesn't know how to communicate this so she makes pitiful, frightened noises and squirms against the hold, which is firm. She feels herself dried off by cloth, wrapped in blankets, and then placed in a pair of vast, warm arms.

A different face is looking down at her now, also female. It is immediately calming, kind and lovely, not that she has much to compare it to, having few memories. The eyes are green and the hair is soft and red, getting into her face. She wrinkles her nose against the hair and there's a loud laugh; the hair is moved. For some reason, she knows she is safe here.

Exhausted, she slowly falls asleep.

* * *

Lily relaxes into the sheets, her slog over, panting and sweating. It is so unbearably _hot. _There is candle light all around her; it's early in the morning of July 31st, and still dark in the window outside. She can see the night framed by the brocade curtains. James's footsteps can be heard pacing restlessly outside their bedroom, the impromptu birthing room. For obvious reasons - they _are _in hiding from Lord Voldemort - the birth was done at home. The child certainly came at his first opportunity, and it had surprised even them.

The private midwife Dumbledore hired cries out warmly, "There he is!" She walks over to the baby, snipping off the umbilical cord, and then pauses in surprise, expressionlessness falling over her face.

"What's wrong?" Lily asks worriedly. "Is he alright?"

"... _She," _says the midwife, looking up. "And _she _is fine."

Lily pauses, blinking. "It's a girl?" she asks stupidly before she can stop herself. For some reason, though it shouldn't have, it surprises her. The great and anticipated savior of the wizarding world is a woman?

She goes back over the Prophecy in her mind: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark the Powerful One as his equal, but the Powerful One will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And one must die instead of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._

Nothing in there that said the Powerful One couldn't be a woman.

Lily scolds herself. She is a talented witch. Of course she could give birth to a talented witch as well!

Suddenly, she wants to see this baby girl.

"Let me hold her," Lily pleads to the midwife. The midwife washes the baby, swaddles her in blankets, and then places the baby in Lily's arms. Lily looks down into that wailing cherub face - a good set of lungs, sharp and strong. The eyes are hazel, she notes - brown in base tone, but with a whole host of vivid green and blue and gold flecks in them if one looks close enough. James's eyes.

The baby slowly calms as Lily rocks her. The wails fade into silence; the eyelids droop. Some of Lily's hair gets in her face and the girl's nose wrinkles; she makes a little sneezing noise. Lily laughs, suddenly elated; in her eyes, the baby is beautiful, precious. She will hide her, defend her, do whatever it takes to keep her safe from that madman and from her possible fate. Lily moves her hair back behind her, over her shoulder. She watches her new daughter fall asleep.

At last, there is a tentative knock on the door. "Is the hell over?" Sirius's voice. As the child's godfather, he has come in moral support. She realizes James's footsteps have stopped, and she imagines him frozen, terrified and elated, on the other side of the door.

Lily laughs softly. "You can come in," she says, and then the door bursts in and James and Sirius tromp inside. "It's a girl," she says, and they both stop, their eyes widening.

To Lily's relief, a smile breaks over James's face. "It is?!" he asks, then says incredulously, "Well, of course it is! Come here, let me see her." He walks over, looks into her face, and says triumphantly, "Ha! She's already gorgeous!"

"Because that's _so _important," says Lily dryly.

"Well, it does help," Sirius adds.

"Quiet, you two, or you'll wake the baby," Lily scolds.

"Sorry." They grin in unison, twins even in this, unrepentant.

"So what are we going to name her?" Lily asks thoughtfully. "Obviously, Harry won't work."

"We could still name her Harry," says James.

"We're not naming our daughter Harry," says Lily.

"What about Harriet?"

Lily wrinkles her nose. "God," she says, "that's awful."

"You could name her Egelbertha," Sirius adds.

"We're not naming our daughter Egelbertha Potter! You two are terrible at naming!" But the three of them are all laughing now. "Besides," Lily adds at last, "it should be a flower name. It runs in my family, you know."

"Linnea," James offers. "Magnolia."

Lily shakes her head. "Something simpler," she says. "More casual on the tongue..."

"I like the regal names, though," James argues. "The interesting ones."

They throw around different names for a while, including Jasmine, Ivy, Iris, and Marigold, before eventually they settle on _Acacia_. They give her the middle name _Estelle, _after Sirius, whose entire family were named after stars.

And so on July 31st, Acacia Estelle Potter is born.

* * *

Tom, the Lord Voldemort, clenches the arms of the wing back chair before him, staring unseeingly at the far dark wall. He has just finished a conversation with the Potter spy, Peter Pettigrew. A spineless, pathetic man, but a useful one. Tom has been working toward this moment for months. He now knows the location of both possible families. The attack will come soon.

But who to attack first?

The conversation was very interesting. It had surprised him. He hadn't expected the Potter child to be a girl. Should this factor into his planning? He had planned on attacking the Potters first. The child is a half blood, and though Tom will only grudgingly admit it even to himself, that hits too close to home for comfort. He must take this threat seriously, and eliminate it.

But a girl... Of course, a woman is just as capable of being deadly as a man. Dear Bella has taught him that. But the idea surprises him, nonetheless. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. _When most people think of a woman defeating a man, the first, reflexive thing they think of is - Tom sneers - _love. _

He has the sudden urge to kill something right there.

Perhaps he will kill the Potter child first after all. He needs to destroy any inclination _anyone _might have that he could be felled by something as trivial and ridiculous as romantic affection.

Tom smiles coldly, standing back, in a good mood now that he has decided. Acacia Potter will die. He will make it Halloween night, the most powerfully magical holiday.

Perhaps he _will _go torture one of the war prisoners.

* * *

Mary MacDonald, blonde and quiet, sits back in shock in the Potters' sitting room. "You want _me _to be the godmother?" she asks.

Lily smiles as if trying to make it easier. "A fairy godmother!" she says grandly. "Just like in all the legends! Any little girl needs a fairy godmother, Mary. And we've been friends since school. Who else would I ask?"

"But... but I'm not even a fighter in the war. I'm just a Healer." Mary is, as usual, self deprecating.

"You may be quiet, Mary, but you're protective, smart, and you have the courage of a lion when you find someone in need," says James. "I think it's a great idea. So does Sirius Black - he's the godfather."

"I'm... I'm honored," Mary says at last. "Of course, I accept."

* * *

Tom, dressed in his black hooded cloak, glides through the village of Godric's Hollow, holding himself in contempt above the Muggles around him, their paltry Halloween decorations and their wanton misunderstanding of something they do not believe in. Ordinary humans, all ordinary humans, are beneath him. He is the great Lord Voldemort; they feel compulsively and he feels little. He is well on his way to becoming immortal, and they are not.

He has waited for this night for a very long time, and he will have his victory.

Few approach him, and those who do back up in horror from his face. He wants to kill all of them, but restrains himself with the admirable willpower that has over the years become a part of him. Once they would have been charmed by his appearance, the false mask of his foolish, dirty Muggle father, but that time is long gone.

The cottage is away from the main part of town, down a dark country road unlit by street lamps. He sees it come into sight, sees through the Fidelius Charm instantly, thanks to Peter Pettigrew. The Potters are there, inside. Silently, he walks up to the gate; silently, at the point of a wand, it swings open for him. He goes past the hedgerows and pauses, watching them through the sitting room window.

The little girl is a toddler by now. She has a headful of dark crimson hair and wears a turquoise nightgown; her skin tone is golden and she is pretty, even as a child. A frown of concentration has spread over her face; she has taken apart a pocket watch and appears to be trying to figure out how it works. Even as he watches, she takes a cog out of the back of the watch and examines it closely, puzzled, before tossing it away carelessly.

She is already intelligent, and that is dangerous. He knows now that he chose correctly.

Her parents enter; her father, dark-haired and bespectacled, scoops her up and hands her to her mother, who looks remarkably similar to her. Acacia complains. They laugh and tell her something, carrying her toward the staircase for bed.

She will never sleep again, Tom knows. He can _sense _it.

He points his wand at the door; it bursts open. The duel with the father is fierce - the man is talented at Transfiguration - and when he is dead, the screaming, hysterical mother refuses to leave from her place in front of her child. She shoots off a spell, but he disarms her easily. He asks her to stand aside over and over, and again she refuses. She asks him to kill her instead.

He did not expect this, does not understand, and it frustrates him. His own mother gave him up; he had expected the same from her. He had promised one of his servants he would spare her, a talented man with a surprising hidden weakness of infatuation, but when she will not move from before her child he feels the inexplicable desire to kill her. And so he does.

Then it is just him and the child, amid the burning, crumbling ruins of the house. She is standing in her crib before him. He can hear shouts and footsteps outside the house; people will be breaking in soon, he knows, not that he couldn't handle it. So he does not have long to pause. He looks into the girl's eyes for a split second, a multitude of colors. She meets his eyes, solemn and quiet, and she is the only one tonight who looks up at him without fear. She is tiny and delicate, seems harmless enough. And yet she is the one who has the power to destroy him?

He lifts his wand and, still looking at her, he shoots off the Killing Curse. It hits her forehead, and she screams, falling, and then the light rebounds and green fills his vision, followed by pain, the greatest pain he has ever known. For the first time in a very long time, he runs. Away from his body. A phantom wraith, barely alive, and only then thanks to his own experiments with Dark magic. He runs away from the house, and away from her, his spirit traveling madly, brokenly across the British countryside.

He will realize later, bitterly, what it was that undid him. Lily sacrificed herself standing before her daughter, and in doing so invoked an ancient kind of protective magic. What undid him... was love.

* * *

Mary's heart stops as she looks at the burning ruins of the Potter home. Sirius has fallen to his knees, broken, before the charred shell. She does not know him well, nor does she understand his connection to the Potters, but in that moment she can feel exactly how he feels. Mary had been told Lord Voldemort was after the Potters, and she has no doubt in her mind that Lily and James are dead. For a moment, it is as if time has stopped.

Then the nurse in her takes over. "Where is the baby?" she says suddenly. She turns to the silent, staring Sirius and grabs his shirt lapels. "Where is the baby?!" Sirius is unresponsive, almost comatose with grief.

Mary lets go of him, suddenly terrified, and runs into the burning building, shooting off water spells to fend off the fire, coughing from the smoke, running up the steps to the nursery on the second floor. The child is lying inside, and her crib is the only thing the fire hasn't reached, and the smell is terrible. Mary clears a path to the crib and rushes over to the child, who is lying there limp. For a terrible moment, Mary thinks the child is dead, but then she feels her chest. The child is breathing. Acacia Potter is still alive.

A flash of blood catches her eye. There is a bloody lightning bolt scar on Acacia's forehead. A curse scar. The sign of a Killing Curse that was cast, and rebounded off its victim, failing to kill properly. Mary stares in disbelief for a moment. Lord Voldemort is gone. Surely he would not leave a job unfinished. There is no Dark Mark over the house. And if the curse rebounded... that has to mean...

There is a crack and Mary realizes she can't be brooding on implications. She grabs Acacia up in her arms and jumps through a hole in the wall to the outside, taking out her wand and floating down to the ground. Then she runs back to the outside street. She makes it just in time for the cottage behind her to collapse in on itself.

She sets the unconscious Acacia down, and runs back over to the house, putting the fire out with her wand. Sirius is already gone.

* * *

Mary has a flat in the Alleys in London, and this is where she Apparates to and takes Acacia, who after all now rightly belongs either to her or to Sirius, who is in no fit mental state to take care of any child. Mary is calmer. She has seen disaster in the wards many times before, has seen many deaths during this civil war against the Dark Lord. The bright Lily's death has shaken her, but she holds firm, steady and boring.

Acacia wakes up with a shriek from her place on the couch, convulsing, tears in her eyes, and Mary has to take Acacia into her lap, hug her and calm her. Mary is a familiar face, and this seems to help Acacia relax. "Mummy?" she asks, looking up into Mary's face. "Daddy?"

Mary's eyes burn with tears and she hugs Acacia tighter, hiding her face in the girl's hair. "No, Acacia," she whispers shakily. "No Mummy. No Daddy."

Acacia puts her face into Mary's robes, and is silent.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, there is a knock on the door. Mary goes to the door and opens it to find Albus Dumbledore on the outside. Immediately, she's nervous. "Professor Dumbledore!"

"Mary. Always a pleasure. May I come in?"

"O-of course." Mary steps aside, tells Dumbledore to take a seat in the kitchen, offers him a warm beverage. Little Acacia toddles up to Dumbledore and tugs on his robe.

"Hm?" He looks down.

"Hi." Acacia waves.

Dumbledore smiles, his eyes brightening. "Well, hello, Acacia." Acacia smiles back, looking up at him. Dumbledore's eyes inevitably trail up to the scar on her forehead. "There it is," he says quietly.

"Is it what I think it is, Dumbledore?" Mary leans back against the kitchen counter. "Did she really...?"

"Yes, I believe so," says Dumbledore.

"... _How_?"

"No one knows." Dumbledore shrugs. "I have hypotheses, nothing more."

"Your hypotheses are better than most people's facts."

"You flatter me."

"Hm."

They watch each other across the space for a moment. "I suppose you're here about her living accommodations," Mary says reluctantly at last. "I think she should stay with me, for now." Mary has already grown attached to the little thing. Acacia is the last remnant she has of her beloved friend. "I am her godmother."

"I appreciate that," says Dumbledore calmly. "But Acacia has living relatives. She should stay with them."

"What living relatives? Both sets of grandparents are dead," says Mary in surprise.

"But Lily had a sister. Petunia. Petunia has a family in Surrey," says Dumbledore.

"You mean the sister who hated her?" Mary raises her eyebrows dubiously.

"Hate is a strong word."

"They certainly didn't get along."

"You don't trust her to take good care of her niece?"

"Not really."

Dumbledore sighs. "I have just recently heard the same argument from Professor McGonagall. Something along the lines of the Dursleys being disgusting human beings."

Mary privately blesses Minerva McGonagall's good sense. "They're Muggles and they won't understand," says Mary. "No matter what happened Halloween night, all the signs point to Acacia becoming an enormously magical child. What about her bursts of accidental magic?"

"Petunia had such experiences with her sister," says Dumbledore.

"Yes, and those just turned out _so _well," adds Mary in a rare moment of sarcasm.

"Mary." Professor Dumbledore looks sternly at her over the top of his half moon glasses. Mary looks away. "The fact that they are Muggles is precisely why Acacia must stay with them. They will not treat her differently because of her unusual beginnings."

"You're saying I'd spoil her?"

Professor Dumbledore raises his hands placatingly. "I'm saying I'm not sure she could handle her fame at such a young age. People are talking, you know, Mary. She was in this morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. They're calling her the Girl Who Lived. She features largely in several current international celebrations."

"So, we can go somewhere obscure, far away from prying eyes. Lord knows she has enough money from the House of Potter."

"Mary..." Professor Dumbledore sounds, for the first time, tired.

"Why are you so gung ho about Acacia living with her aunt?" Mary asks wonderingly.

"Because," says Dumbledore quietly after a moment, "if she were living with her blood relatives, I could strengthen the wards around her home better. I could protect her better there."

There is a pause. "The war is over," says Mary uncertainly.

"Yes, but the Death Eaters must still be rounded up..."

"But the war's over."

"Yes," says Dumbledore at last, "for now, it seems the war is over."

"You Know Who is dead."

"Gone," says Dumbledore, and it never occurs to her that this is not an agreement. He seems to think for a moment. "I just have the nasty feeling there is more to come," he admits at last, heavily. As a member of the Wizengamot Council, Dumbledore had been elected to lead the war effort, and Mary suspects this still weighs heavily on him.

"You could just be coming down from your stress," Mary suggests softly, ever the Healer. "There might not be anything more to come at all. You shouldn't send a child to people who don't want her just because of a feeling."

Dumbledore sighs. "I hope you're right," he says. "Alright. She can stay with you. As long as Sirius doesn't contest it - and I suspect he won't - she belongs to you under Lily and James's word anyway."

* * *

Sirius's will quickly becomes a moot point. It's all over the news: Sirius confronted his friend Peter Pettigrew in a Muggle street. Peter accused Sirius of betraying the Potters to Voldemort; then there was a giant explosion that killed thirteen Muggles and the biggest piece of Peter that could be found was a finger. Sirius was taken away to Azkaban Prison, laughing hysterically all the way.

This news shakes Mary more than she cares to admit. Thank goodness she'd been around to save Acacia from Sirius and Dumbledore.

Mary takes Acacia out to a little cottage in the English countryside, far away from prying eyes, the address a carefully guarded secret. Dumbledore comes himself to put protective wards around the house. They live off of Acacia's trust fund and the Potter family account.

Mary begins raising Acacia in the best way she knows how. There's a lot of getting used to each other at first. Acacia misses her parents and Mary has had no preparation for having to raise a child - being an only child herself.

Still, they grow to love each other. Mary tries to give Acacia the best childhood she can.

* * *

As Acacia grows, her world shifts. She learns her name and what she looks like, and learns the faces and voices of her Mummy and her Daddy. Their home together is warm and she is safe and loved.

Then comes that night, breaking her fairytale dream, smashing it into pieces on the floor.

She remembers a chaotic cacophony of crashes and bright lights, distant male shouting. She remembers her mother's breath in her ear as she runs up the stairs into her nursery. She remembers watching her mother's back through the crib bars, sounds of screaming and crying, then her mother falling and collapsing limply onto the floor in a burst of green light. Acacia does not understand. She doesn't know why her mother would fall over like that. And then she looks up, and up, into a bone-white face, flat and snake-like, with red slit eyes. The face is fascinating to her, like nothing she has ever seen before. Then there's a burst of green light and a burning pain on her forehead, and after that she never sees her parents or their fairytale house again.

After that is Mary, Godmum. Mary and her soft voice and hands, her worried face. Their house together in the countryside.

This is when Acacia's life truly starts.

* * *

Acacia screams from the memory of pain in her forehead and shoots upright in her bed one night, in a cold sweat. After a few moments, there are the sounds of footsteps and Mary runs into the room.

"What is it?!" Her eyes are wide, frantic; she's in her nightgown and holding a candle.

"Nightmare..." Acacia looks down, pouting, her eyes filling with tears despite herself.

Mary immediately comes over, sits down and wraps her warm arms around Acacia's shoulders. "It's alright, you're safe now," she says. "You are safe."

And Acacia believes her.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I have finished years two and three and am partway through year four. So at the very least, years two and three will also be posted.

I plan on updating once every two weeks, as I did this time.

She will start at Hogwarts next chapter.

* * *

_Chapter Two: Names_

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_Thank you for writing. Yes, Acacia and I are well. The land is beautiful here, lots of wide open spaces and a nearby creek for Acacia to play around in. We've made Muggle friends in the neighboring village. I am trying to bring Acacia up to understand that there is nothing wrong with Muggles, per se; I have told her that I and her mother came from them._

_I'm bringing her up knowing the story of her past and her parents. I don't see how I could keep it from her, under the circumstances. I hope that's the right decision._

_I know you mostly wrote to hear about Acacia, you can't fool me. Acacia had a lot of magical accidents when she was younger. Little things. Shaking the house during temper tantrums, Summoning toys to herself, changing her appearance to suit her will, and other oddities. Her magic is unusually powerful, as is to be expected. But she's mostly gotten over all that now. She seems to be gaining better control over her abilities as she grows older. _

_Acacia looks eerily like Lily. She is crimson-haired and very pretty. Her eyes are hazel and her face is very expressive. She doesn't quite see it. I know, though she never says it, that she is self conscious of her nose, which she claims is too long. Girls do focus on the silliest things. Was I ever like that during my time at Hogwarts? Surely not._

_Acacia enjoys reading and drawing. Her favorite music is folk rock; her music is very relaxing, though she does choose some of the most obscure sounds. She is inspired at flying, something I suspect she gets from her father, and she loves Quidditch! Her favorite team is the Holyhead Harpies, mainly because it's made up of all girls. I've taken her to several games. She'd make a good Seeker, I think - light, fast, good reflexes, and observant. _

_Acacia is complicated, difficult at times, but incredibly lovable. She is very sarcastic and she delights in satirizing the ridiculous. She prefers the dark and the edgy, but she has a good heart. Even as a child, she dislikes for anyone to see her cry. She is resilient, tough, very independent, and unafraid of being alone. I know she considers me overprotective. Acacia loves me - she calls me "Godmum" - but she strains for further independence, to be able to go and do as she pleases. I think she will grow up to be a very singular person._

_It is hard to explain Acacia. Part of her charm comes from knowing her. She has very effortlessly captured my heart. I think, like her parents though in a different way, she will grow up to be a good person._

_Do write back to tell me how you are._

_All the best,_

_Mary MacDonald _

* * *

Acacia and Mary are seated in the stands at a Holyhead Harpies match. The walls of the stadium are gold, the stadium itself is suffused with a mysterious gold light, and the goal posts are so incredibly high above them. The commentator is shouting things left and right and the sounds of shouting and excitement surround them in the stadium, and Acacia cheers more loudly and ferociously than almost anyone, standing on her seat, to her godmother's endless amusement. She has the Omnioculars pressed tight against her face and watches the players zip around at high speeds with endless fascination.

Acacia dreams of one day being up there like that - of being _that _good a flier, if she works hard enough. In her eyes, it seems quite within her grasp.

It's a great day, one of the best. Before and after the game, Acacia giggles and jokes with Mary - something about Slytherins and trumpet fish? - and they pack in all the concession treats, from Chocolate Frogs to Pumpkin Pasties.

Later, they're walking back to their Portkey, and they're still discussing the match. "I can't _believe _their _formations, _they were _superb!"_

"You know, they lost and you're still on cloud nine," Mary laughs.

"Ha! The game was brilliant! I'll save my disappointment for when I'm actually _on _the team." Acacia makes a mock prissy face, making fun of herself, and then she laughs. "Anyway, did you see the man behind us? He was incredibly fat and wearing a nightgown!"

"Oh, Acacia, that's _mean_," says Mary.

"What? It's God's honest truth! He looked like a seal wearing a dress. I think he was trying to look like a Muggle. And I said to him, 'Sir, I like your style,' and he says, 'What style?' He doesn't even get it! So I tell him he's got a whole Seaworld thing going on, and he doesn't understand because wizards haven't heard of Seaworld, and -!" Acacia is laughing and, reluctantly, Mary is along with her.

They bend down to pick up their Portkey - and all of a sudden, a man rams right into Acacia. "Hey! Rude!" says Acacia angrily, turning around. "Do you mind -?!"

The man is shady-looking, with a camera around his neck. She has just enough time to register this before the Portkey activates and he grabs onto it as well, taking himself along with them.

There's a hook behind Acacia's navel and she flies along the world in a whirl of rainbow wind and color, before her feet _slam _onto the ground.

Immediately, the man lifts his camera up and starts taking pictures of her. "Acacia Potter! Acacia Potter! Look over here!" The camera flashes in her face. Acacia lifts her hands, startled, annoyed, and afraid.

"I'm not - I'm not - What are you _talking _about?"

"I saw your scar at the match! Do you like Quidditch? Who's your favorite team?!" The camera just keeps going off, the little man jumping around madly.

"Run!" Mary shouts and, with the reporter running behind them, they sprint for the wards. Acacia can _feel _the electric charge as she passes through them and then the reporter is thrown back on his face. Mary looks around coldly, glaring, and waves her wand to switch the wards.

The cameraman can no longer see them.

* * *

And after that, it's like her picture is everywhere. Plastered all over news sources and magazines. Acacia can't go out anymore - not to matches, not to London. Nowhere. Nowhere wizarding, anyway.

They take in the damage for a few days and then Mary decides that they have to hire a press agent. It's not like they can't afford one, after all. So the man is hired, a Mr Pemberton, a homosexual and a grand man with a taste for the luxurious. But he's smart and genuinely caring, a good agent.

He recommends that Acacia give an interview. "Quiet the fervor and speculation," he says.

"Isn't she a little young to be giving interviews?" Mary asks dubiously.

"Her age is actually perfect," says Mr Pemberton. "She's honest. With Rita Skeeter, raw vulnerability goes a long way. It gives her something to work with."

* * *

So here Acacia is, sitting before a formidable and tacky blonde woman with cat's-eye glasses named Rita Skeeter. The woman is smirking, looking her over like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop. Acacia glares back, wanting badly to make a face, but her legs swing out of pure nervousness. She's dressed nicely, wearing fresh new robes, rust colored. The front pieces of her hair are tied up in a barrette behind her, and she wears soft brown ballet shoes.

An acid green quill writes for Rita as she talks. It's very high above Acacia's head. "So you're the mysterious Acacia?" Rita asks slyly.

"So they say," says Acacia. "Not sure if I believe it myself."

"It must be difficult, being so well known everywhere."

Acacia shrugs uncomfortably. "I don't think much about it, to be honest. I mean, I live with my Godmum, I have my own life, I do my own thing. I don't really see myself as anything special."

"That's refreshingly down to earth," says Rita warmly. "So you're not ambitious at _all_?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I want to do amazing things," says Acacia. "I just don't think I have to _be_ amazing to do them. It all comes down to how badly you want something."

"Some would argue you've done amazing things already."

"I..." Acacia pauses in surprise. "I've never seen it that way. I don't remember doing anything special. I was only a baby."

"No hidden magical gifts we should know about?" Rita's eyes glint. Acacia looks at her warily, uncertain. Rita changes tack. "The question of memories, of course, inevitably brings us to what everyone wants to ask you..."

"What do I remember?"

"Exactly."

Acacia takes a deep breath. She has already decided what to say. "I remember that my Mum was really beautiful. I have fragmented memories of my parents. I can tell they _really_ loved me a lot. I remember that You Know Who had red eyes. And that my mother was screaming as he killed her."

There is a moment of heavy silence. Rita looks as if all her dreams have come true at once; a relatively new reporter, she's practically bursting with excitement. Acacia looks calmly back at her, bold and quiet.

"You say it so cavalierly," says Rita at last, fascinated.

"I have to live with it every day," says Acacia. "You get used to it." She shrugs. "It was horrible," she admits casually - well, faux casually. "But, that's why it's always kind of uncomfortable, whenever anyone talks about how amazing I am. Because..."

"Because that comes with a certain price."

"Exactly. It happened a long time ago and I think it's time for everyone to move on."

"It was not so long ago that it happened, though," Rita argues, incredulous.

"It happened a whole lifetime ago for me," says Acacia.

"So you really don't think much about You Know Who in your daily life? You're not afraid of him?"

"... Not really." Acacia thinks back, and is unsure if she ever has been.

* * *

The interview becomes controversial. People say she shouldn't talk about such a murderer so casually. Rita describes Acacia as "cold" but "dedicated." She adds in a bit about her and Acacia's conversation about books, and praises Acacia's "down to earth, can-do" attitude.

The quotes about what she remembers and how she feels about her fame, of course, will stay imprinted in the public memory for a very long time, invoking some kind of misguided pity for the tragic princess Acacia is not.

"A fascinating conversation with a fascinating young lady!" Rita ends, and Acacia thinks she can detect just a hint of condescension in it.

Acacia throws the Prophet edition away on the kitchen table again.

* * *

One morning, Acacia comes downstairs slowly, frowning. Mary looks up absently from where she was making breakfast, and pauses, staring.

"You look awful. Is everything alright?" Mary asks.

"It's... it's probably nothing... I just, I had a dream. I got a vision that you were sick. That you were dying," Acacia explains. "In a hospital bed."

"Oh, honey." Mary comes and wraps reassuring arms around her goddaughter. "I am _not _dying."

"I know. I just - Can you check anyway? Go to the Healers?" Mary stands back in surprise. "Just to satisfy the weird feeling." Acacia attempts a smile.

"Alright," Mary says at last uncertainly. "I can do that."

* * *

Mary is admitted to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries with the beginnings of a very serious illness. Acacia is forced to stay with friends of theirs in the next village, waiting anxiously by the phone for any sign of what's going on.

As soon as she can, she goes to the hospital to visit her Godmum.

She walks in looking like a little woman in mourning, with strikingly dark robes and a cream colored handbag. Her red hair is tied up behind her. She passes a boy sitting in the waiting room whose arm has been Transfigured into a dragon claw and who's drooling incoherently, and walks up to the desk. She's so short the receptionist doesn't even notice her at first. Acacia frowns. "Excuse me," she says in a tiny, determined voice.

The receptionist looks dubiously over the desk, and then stares in disbelief.

"I want to see my Godmum," says Acacia simply. Everyone in the hospital knows they're tending to the guardian of a celebrity.

"Well, did you - did you come here all by your_self_?" The receptionist seems to be looking around for an adult.

"Yes. Yes, I did." Acacia walked the few miles back home, got the spare key from behind the flower pot, let herself in, and used the Floo powder to bring herself here. Actually, it was relatively simple.

The receptionist blinks for a few more seconds, and then points down the hall and says as if in a trance, "... Third floor, third door on the left."

Acacia nods and walks down the hall. She passes through the wood-paneled hallways lined with moving portraits of famous Healers and floating crystal bubbles full of candles, past the Healers in lime green robes, up two flights of stairs, past the artifact accidents ward (one wizard is covered in angry red boils and a witch has moving paper clips stuck in her tongue) and the creature induced injuries ward (one man is covered in nasty burns and wide claw marks). At last, she arrives at Mary's room. The minute she appears, the constant reporters with cameras who have remained huddled around the hospital room jump up, flashing pictures. By this point, Acacia has learned to take them with a little more... dignity?

"Acacia Potter -!"

"Where are you staying -?!"

"Are you alright -?!"

"How do you feel about this -?!"

Acacia pushes expressionlessly through them and through the hospital room door, shutting it behind her. Then she closes the curtains on the glass window, so no one can see inside. Only then does she turn around, and her face twists, her heart stops. Mary is lying on the bed, looking thin and pale and sweaty, covered in white sheets.

Acacia immediately runs forward and grabs her hand, reflexively.

Mary smiles weakly. "It's not as bad as it looks," she says. "With some potion regimens, I'll be fine. It's lucky we caught it when we did, or I might have died.

"You should start paying more attention to your dreams, kiddo."

And, indeed, Acacia does start noticing little coincidences: dreams that hint at things to come, from the mundane to the larger. She looks it up, and learns this is called "Dreamseeing."

* * *

Mary does get better and return, thanks to the early warning. Things do go back to normal.

But there is one moment when Acacia has to push back through the crowds of reporters, already upset, upon leaving her godmother's hospital room. And all of a sudden, the feelings overwhelm her, and she rushes into the nearest restroom, shutting the door behind her.

Only there, hiding in a stall, does she bend over as if in physical pain and hold onto herself, face twisted. Tears burn in her eyes and she is trying desperately not to cry.

That is the day Acacia learns that even she can't fix everything.

* * *

One afternoon after Mary's "triumphant return" (Acacia's words), Acacia has taken up her broom and gone outside to the field behind her house to practice moves. A garden snake slithers through the grass and she hisses to it, asking it to move away. It retreats in compliance. Acacia has known she can talk to snakes from her earliest days out here in the fields. The first time she explained this to her godmother, the woman gave her an odd look and told her not to go sharing that around.

She lets the snakes stay. Aside from the fact that they can be fascinating conversationalists, they keep at bay the garden gnomes, little potato-like creatures who live in holes and eat at the roots of plants.

Acacia mounts her broom and kicks off into the air. What a feeling. The wind rushes past her and she just flies around for a while, doing loops, enjoying herself. At last, she straightens and begins her practice. Today she wants to work on moving the rest of her body with her hand on the broom. She tries over and over again - and she falls on her ass - a _lot._

After about the fifth time, she straightens and curses in anger, stamping her foot - and the grass beneath her foot bursts into flames.

Acacia backs up, staring at it for a moment. She used to do accidental magic all the time, when throwing tantrums and other such things. But she hasn't since she was very small. Now, the magic reminds her of something. Rita Skeeter expected Acacia to be talented at magic. Everyone does, it seems. Of course, that's no good reason to do anything, but still the thought touches off something in her mind.

Wouldn't it be nice, Acacia thinks, to be able to do even a bit of wandless magic?

* * *

So she begins attempting to control her magic. At first, she tries to recreate the emotion that led to the magic in the first place. This shows little success.

So she buys some books on basic magic and begins reading them. One of the exercises recommends the person meditate, reaching back into their power core to pull the magic to them. Acacia tries this, knowing the electric sensation of magic, but just needing to find it within herself.

She reaches deep back into her power core... and to her surprise, she encounters two magics. Two energies.

Thinking this may be the power everyone keeps talking about, Acacia feels a leap of excitement. She quickly reaches inside, and tugs on the two powers, pulling them to the forefront.

She will be disappointed if she believes this will suddenly lead to new gifts. After a lot of practice, she learns how to do a few basic things, like move items without touching them and indulge in slight pyromania. And that's about it.

But deep within Acacia's scar, something vital has clicked _on_.

* * *

The last thing he remembers is the spell hitting him, and then there is only blackness, a haze of blackness, for a long time... And, under that, a feeling of _need. _He wants for something, painfully, something he cannot have.

Then she reaches for him, and he feels a foreign and yet familiar magic touch his own, pulling it gently, gently, back into...

And then he's there. In her head. A silent and powerless observer.

It takes him a while, to realize who she is - what must have happened. When he does, an impotent kind of anger fills him. She is so much older, and it doesn't take him long to figure out from the wash of Muggles and Muggleborns that all his toil has failed him. He can't even get out of her head.

He resolves to eat her from the inside out, and so targets her emotions. He feels everything she feels, her anger and fear, her humor and pain. He eats at it all, and it's never enough, there's always that feeling of need... Acacia goes into a kind of angry depression, becoming listless and not eating, until at last her godmother sits her down and talks it out with her. They start crying, and they hug each other.

And in that moment, he feels - powerfully - what she feels. A foreign emotion wells up within her body, terrible and painful, so much so that he retreats from her for the first time.

But after a while, he notices she feels that painful emotion for a lot of things. For her Muggle friends in the village, for their younger siblings, for her godmother. She practically spews the emotion everywhere she goes. And the more he feels it, the more he is fascinated by it.

It's painful, yes, but it's more than that. It's like drinking water after days in the desert. It's exactly what this fragment of soul wants, and the more he feels, the more he wants. He _wants, _he _wants _it, painfully sometimes. It's something he's never experienced himself. He didn't know it was possible to feel anything this strongly.

Acacia returns to normal, her bright and happy and expressive self. She begins teasing people again, making jokes. No matter how much of the feeling he takes away, there is always more of it. It is as if she has an endless supply.

He sees the world through her eyes. Through her filter. Where he sees bareness, she sees character, and where he sees dark intentions, she sees potential. She really is hopeless. He cannot believe she was destined to be his undoing. He watches her eat dinner and make silly faces at herself in the mirror, mock people and help them in the same breath. He watches her fly and obsess over Quidditch. He watches her vivid fits of emotion. Just... little things. He watches closely, searching for something special. Something that would explain her danger to him.

He finds a way to talk to her - in her dreams. At first, he whispers to her at night, trying to manipulate her, telling her to do awful things, but then she just starts taking a deep sleep potion and blocks him out from her damn head every night. (She goes to the Apothecary to get it on her own - her a ten year old girl.) A lesser person would have been afraid, but not Acacia. If anything, she seems annoyed, and he knows it's because she Sees through her dreams, and has grown attached to knowing what's coming.

Curious, he retreats, and after a while she stops taking the potion. But the threat is always there. Looming. Damn her. Reluctantly, he respects her tenacity.

That's how it starts.

From there, he begins talking to her in her head at night about other things. Things she's read, new bits of magic she's learned. In part it's to keep from going insane. He's always there, but can never speak, never be seen or heard. Yet in her dreams, he can talk to her, tell her what he thinks.

He's surprised when she starts responding to him.

_You're the other power, aren't you? _she asks him knowingly one night in her head. _The second power deep within me?_

_... Yes, _he answers cautiously after a moment. There is nothing telling about that.

He can somehow feel her smile in her sleep.

And she begins talking back. He starts giving her counsel on wandless magic, telling her about places she can travel to someday and new things she can read. They get into long discussions. Neither of them are very interested in family or friend drama, but they share the same interest in _ideas. _She is a fascinating girl; charm doesn't work on her. It actually makes her guarded. Even amused. But when he is genuine, when she can argue and debate and they can talk about ideas, that's when she comes into her own. She is highly intelligent and oddly likable.

She has already been his destruction, so he sees nothing dangerous about this communication. He begins to give her advice. Pings little warning signs, pains, through her scar whenever he feels she might be in danger. Call it self preservation instinct. He realizes, at some point, that she is keeping this piece of him alive. He can exist, for now, at least in this form. She can unknowingly help him, her parents' murderer.

And he continues to bathe in the glow of that strange emotion within her, that drawing, painful, bittersweet emotion that he is not sure how to name. He can feel himself becoming stronger from it. What this means, he is not yet sure. Under normal circumstances, he would just take over her mind and live that way. And yet...

However strong his soul is, _hers _is stronger. Of this, by now, he is certain. In a duel or a physical fight, he would win - easily. But on this plane he is not so certain, and that bothers him. That same painful, vivid emotion that fascinates him and strengthens him makes him cautious.

Besides, she interests him. He doesn't destroy what interests him until he has divined its secrets.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I have year four written, and year five begun and planned out. With that said, I will be taking a brief break from writing this story, on account of I'm exhausted. I have been writing it continuously, for hours every day, for a solid month before I first posted all the way through till now. I need a break. You will continue receiving twice-monthly updates until I run out of chapters. By that time, hopefully, I will have begun year five.

Don't worry. I will definitely come back to writing this story. I have plans for Acacia.

* * *

_Chapter Three: A Hard One_

Acacia and her magic are having a conversation one night in her head, as she lays there asleep. They are speaking in Parseltongue - snake language - which, being a part of each other, they both know fluently. Her power is trying to teach her a new kind of wandless magic. She protests on principle.

_But I don't want to hurt other people, unless they want to hurt me._

She can feel his frustration. _I'm telling you how to gain power. I'm trying to teach you how to do something important. And you don't want to learn it? Are you weak?_

_I'm not weak. I just don't have any interest in hurting people except in self defense. _She projects a stubborn feeling - take it or leave it. _Teach me how to push people back, how to defend myself. But I don't enjoy the idea of causing others pain. So there. _She does the mental version of sticking her tongue out at him.

_You are a frustrating, foolish, and impudent child. _For someone who claims never to feel anger, her power gets angry a lot. _Alright. Fine. Basic self defense. Pushing someone back. At least it's something._

_You're grumbling._

_I do not grumble. It is beneath me. Shut up or I won't help you._

He really is such a prima donna, but she blocks this thought off from him. He learned how to block certain thoughts or feelings off from her fairly early on, and she just copied him. He tells her it's a good forerunner to Occlumency, the ability to block thoughts off from Legilimens, or mind readers.

She wakes up amused, in a good mood. Then she remembers what she dreamed of before their conversation and she brightens. She runs downstairs to Mary in the kitchen and then stands there smugly, her hands behind her back.

"Guess what today is."

"Tomorrow's your eleventh birthday," says Mary calmly, not even looking up.

Acacia is disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm and drama. She slumps, scowling, messy red hair falling into her eyes. "Tomorrow's my eleventh birthday," she agrees sulkily. "And _today_?" Mary still doesn't look up. Acacia feels dry amusement from the spirit within her.

"I don't know," Mary sighs at last. "What?"

"Today is the day I get my Hogwarts letter!" Acacia lifts her hands up on either side of her. Mary looks up in surprise. "I dreamed about it last night." Casually, Acacia goes over to the stove and gets breakfast.

"It would be just like Dumbledore to send it in time for your birthday," says Mary thoughtfully.

Acacia has met Dumbledore a few times before. His eyes twinkle and he always seems very polite, like some doting old grandfather. He brings her gifts every time he comes over, which is not enough to buy her over, but pleasing nonetheless. For some reason, her spirit doesn't like him. He says Dumbledore's always trying to read her mind, and the spirit has to block it off from him. But Acacia is more moderate in her opinion. Dumbledore's intrusion, though unwelcome, is not totally unexpected. He didn't get to be as powerful as he is without a healthy amount of paranoia.

Sure enough, the letter comes by owl just as they're sitting down to their juice and cereal.

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Acacia can barely contain her own excitement. She feels a sort of sigh of nostalgic fondness from the spirit within her. The spirit has already told her he thinks she will like it there.

* * *

The night before her trip to Diagon Alley to buy her school supplies, Acacia dreams of a beautiful pair of dangling bone earrings. They hang in her ears, offsetting her skin and her hair. She awakes feeling confused. What would bone have to do with her school supplies?

She will find out soon enough.

The only thing she can't bring is actually the one thing she already has. First years aren't allowed to bring their own brooms, because they'll be taking flying lessons on the school brooms. They can't try out for the school Quidditch teams, either.

"You should be looking forward to flying lessons," Mary tells her goddaughter in surprise.

"At least it'll be something," Acacia agrees, though she is frowning slightly in dissatisfaction. "But it'll be boring."

"Easy grade, though, and never complain about those," says Mary, and then she holds out the little woven cloth bag full of Floo powder. They are standing before their brick fireplace. "Take a pinch. Say -"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Acacia finishes calmly, throwing the Floo powder down and stepping nimbly into the warm green fire - green like the Killing Curse, green like her mother's eyes. Acacia has done this many times before. She closes her eyes and tucks her elbows in, spinning nauseously for a few seconds, cold air and snatches of conversation brushing past her. Then she's shoved out of the fireplace and grabs at a chair off to the side for purchase as she stumbles through into the shabby little wizarding pub that fronts wizarding London. Mary comes through just after her.

Acacia braces herself. She's about three steps in when it happens. "Acacia Potter!" someone in the pub cries out in delighted surprise. There's a moment of complete silence as everyone looks around, and then fans are crowding around her, tearful, asking to shake her hand, wanting an autograph. They're adults, but age has never mattered.

Acacia smiles slightly, making an effort to look friendly, and she signs scraps of parchment, shakes hands. She makes sure to ask people's names and how they're doing, remembering the counsel of Mr Pemberton. She laughs and shares jokes. People like it when she seems friendly and at ease.

"You know," a tiny, gruff-looking silver haired woman named Doris Crockford says wonderingly, "in the news they always describe you as very cold and deliberate, but I quite think you're the most charming little girl I've ever met! Good job!" she adds to Mary. Mary laughs uneasily and thanks Doris Crockford. Acacia isn't sure how to feel, so she clenches her jaw and makes an effort to keep smiling.

One pale, nervous-looking young man - a Quirinus Quirrell - admits shyly that he will be one of her Professors in the coming school year at Hogwarts. "Oh, lovely!" Acacia purposefully seems enthused and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder - he seems rather twitchy. "What subject do you teach?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts." Quirrell still looks frightened and has a serious stutter.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do a fine job," says Acacia, and watches worriedly as the man is pulled back into the eager, celebrity-hungry crowd. He seems easily engulfed by rougher people. A pure scholar, perhaps, not a combative bone in his body.

She feels a touch of something from her inner spirit. They have recently begun to be able to communicate even in daytime, so she asks him inside her own head, _What is it?_

_I once wanted to be a Defense teacher, _says the spirit reservedly. They have already talked about the fact that he used to be a living man, something he doesn't remember much of, which she finds fascinating.

_Is it possible? Do I detect jealousy?_

_Don't be ridiculous. Jealousy is beneath me. It's just a pity, that's all, for you to have such an awful professor at such an important subject as combat._

* * *

Mary and Acacia do eventually have to bid their adieus. Acacia smiles for one last picture with a fan, and then she and Mary make their way through the Leaky Cauldron, through the brick wall beyond, and out into the bright color and bustle of Diagon Alley. Acacia has pulled her soft greyish-gold cloak hood over her head, and pulled her dark red bangs down over her forehead. This is enough, for now, to keep the gawkers at bay.

They make their way to Gringotts Bank first, the magnificent white marble building, to get their money. They enter through the two sets of metallic doors - manned by swarthy, clever faced goblins with long fingers and feet - and into the vast marble hall. They have just walked up to a desk goblin when they hear a loud, booming voice and look around to find -

Even Acacia stares slightly. The man is gigantic; just his beard is larger than her whole head! She feels a start from the spirit within her, and assumes he is startled by the same.

"Hagrid!" says Mary.

Hagrid looks around and beams. "Well," he says, "if it's not little Mary MacDonald! And this must be..." Hagrid looks down at Acacia with warm, misty eyes. "This must be little Miss Potter."

"Acacia, Rubeus Hagrid is the groundskeeper at Hogwarts School," says Mary.

"It's nice to meet you," offers Acacia with unusual shyness. She reaches out a hand to shake his and, smiling, he gives it a very whiskery kiss.

"Great to meet you, too," he says. His black eyes are very kind.

"What are you doing here, Hagrid?" Mary asks, friendly.

Hagrid straightens and says, "I'm here to pick up an item for Professor Dumbledore, at vault 713." He says this louder, turning back to his goblin.

"But you don't have a bag to carry anything in," Acacia notes in surprise.

"Oh, it's small." Hagrid and the goblin exchange a strange sort of smile. "I won't be needing one."

Hagrid and Acacia's group part ways. One goblin leads Hagrid through one door, and another goblin leads Acacia and her godmother through theirs. They climb in the mining cart and are zoomed at break-neck speeds down underground, past the metal vault doors, through crooked stone turns, over an underground ravine, past bursts of dragon-fire and stalactites, to get to Acacia's trust fund vault. The goblin unlocks the door with her little gold key, the usual deadly toxic fumes that are harmless to those who belong come billowing out, and then they move past those to reach for the necessary gold coins inside.

* * *

Robes are first. Gladrags is a more general department store, but for the good, high-end fittings everyone goes to Madam Malkins. Mary and Acacia enter with the tinkling of a bell, Acacia still wearing her hood. Mary stands back, a little awkwardly, and lets Acacia walk forward.

Madam Malkin begins to move over toward Mary, who shakes her head and points. Smiling uncertainly, Madam Malkin walks over instead to the tiny, silent, silver-hooded creature. "And what's that you need, dear?"

"A fitting for first year Hogwarts uniforms," says Acacia. "I believe they're black robes?"

"Yes, they are," says Madam Malkin, still a little uncertain, but she leads Acacia over to a row of footstools and stands her beside a pale, sharp-featured boy with styled platinum blond hair. This boy also looks very young, and is also being fitted in black robes. He is watching her curiously.

"You're going to have to take the cloak off for me to fit you, dear," says Madam Malkin at last, and Acacia sighs, steeling herself. She pulls the cloak off, and her _very_ familiarface is revealed. All business stops for a moment and there are several gasps from the fitters. The boy's grey eyes have widened.

Madam Malkin is thunderstruck until Acacia says at last, "I still need my robes fitted."

"O... Oh! Oh, of course!" And, flustered, pricking herself several times, Madam Malkin begins to fit Acacia's robes to the correct length. The other fitters all hurriedly look back to their work as well, pretending they hadn't stared.

The boy is still watching Acacia with interest. She looks straight in front of herself, at her uniform-fitted figure in the mirror. Black can look striking on redheads, but she'll have to wear the right accents so she doesn't appear washed out.

"This is a stupid lead, but it's the only one I can think of," says the boy at last. "You're Acacia Potter?"

"I am," says Acacia, looking over sideways at him, her eyes veiled, for now resisting the urge to make fun of him. She doesn't know him well enough yet.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. You're infamously reserved," Draco informs her. "You never interact with any part of society. Everyone wonders about you."

"My godmother thought it would be best to raise me as far away from my fame as possible," says Acacia. "But there's a Muggle village nearby."

"God, I'm sorry," is the first thing Draco says.

"For what?" Acacia asks.

"For having to interact with Muggles!" says Draco incredulously.

Acacia scoffs. "Oh, Muggles aren't that bad."

"So she _has_ ruined you," says Draco wisely. "We were afraid she would."

"Afraid who would ruin me?" Acacia's eyes have narrowed.

"Your godmother!"

Acacia waves a hand sharply and Draco is thrown off his stool and onto the floor. It's the magical equivalent of punching him. The witches immediately back up, shrieking. Acacia's chest is heaving, burning, her face working with anger.

Draco sits upright. "What the _hell's_ the matter with you? My father's an important man, you know! I could have him sue you for - for -"

"_Oh, yes, your father, who's been arrested for suspected Death Eater activities, is going to sue Acacia Potter and get away with it." _The words, dripping with cold sarcasm, are coming out of Acacia's mouth, but she has no control over them. A moment later, the feeling is gone and she's herself again. Was that... the spirit?

"It's - it's never proven that my father did anything wrong!" But Draco's eyes have widened, his face flushed; he's backing up slightly.

"Don't insult my mother!" Acacia snaps, furious.

"Fine! Fine! Go live with your Mudblood godmother and your filthy friends if that's what you love so much!" But Draco is now being shouted out of the shop, he backing away further, stumbling.

"Get out of here, boy!" Madam Malkin snarls, and it's amazing how formidable she can seem for a tiny, round-faced woman. She throws a curse after him as he runs off; it bounces harmlessly off the floor. Acacia is still standing there, breathing deeply. Madam Malkin turns to Acacia apologetically. "Miss - I'm sorry -"

Mary is frowning. "Acacia, never react in anger," she says. "I'm quite used to it. When did you learn how to do tha -?"

They move forward to crowd around her...

Acacia squeezes her eyes shut, feeling every bit of her headache. "Is there - is there a bathroom somewhere around here?" she asks tightly. There's a moment of silence and then, surprisingly understanding, the other women of the store lead her back to the restroom and let her just sit in there and _think _in the silence for a moment.

_... You talked to him, didn't you? Through me? _she asks the spirit in her head.

He speaks at last, reserved, with a muted tone of anger underneath it. _His father was once a suspected Death Eater. He slithered his way back into ordinary society and managed to retain his wealth. You have read this._

_Malfoy... The name does sound familiar... Thanks for sticking up for me._

_You are welcome. As detestable as I find people without magic, for him to insult them when you care for them as you do was foolish._

Acacia nods slowly, thinking hard. He is pure magical energy. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised that he isn't a huge fan of Muggles. _So you agree with him?_

_I don't understand your fascination with them. But I must admit, seen through your eyes, they come across... differently, than they do in mine. I see your favoritism toward Muggles and Muggleborns as an unfortunate weakness._

Acacia's eyes narrow. _And yet you defended me._

_You were in pain. He bothered you. Such things aren't allowed in my vessel. You would have been well within your rights to curse him if you knew how. Someday, I will teach such things to you._

_He was just a silly boy, _says Acacia.

_You're right. He is just a silly boy. So stop letting him ruin your birthday. _The words are not touching. They are cold and sharp, as befits him.

Still, Acacia feels better.

* * *

Acacia comes back out, smiling sheepishly, and hugs her godmother. "You've got a temper, kiddo," says Mary, putting a hand on the back of her goddaughter's head. "In a weird way, I'm proud of you. I was worried you'd get picked on in school like I was. Guess I shouldn't have worried. Are you ready to shop?"

Acacia realizes she is not worried about getting picked on, either. If she is, her spirit will help her. He will suggest she do horrible things to her bullies, but he will help her, and this makes her feel safer.

So the two of them go crazy and have fun shopping for new robes and shoes at Madam Malkins. Inspired by her dream, Acacia picks out some bone and wood jewelry, and a pair of jade earrings. She buys new, soft robes, in terra cotta, pumpkin, and a lovely teal. She buys taupe and oyster colored hair ribbons, to tie around her ponytail and offset the color of her school robes. She gets a new pair of shoes, beige in color. The only thing Mary will not buy her is makeup. She insists Acacia wait to wear makeup until she is thirteen.

They go to Flourish and Blotts next, the bookstore, and Acacia buys a few new books to go along with her school textbooks. One is fiction. Another is a history of Hogwarts. The third is a basic introduction to all the possible elective courses offered at Hogwarts; her plan is to read up on all of them and then pick two or three of her favorites at the end of her second year. (That she will make it that far, she doesn't doubt.)

They buy a brass cauldron - better for brewing; copper is unneeded for a first year student and gold would just be tacky and gaudy - a nice set of brass scales, and a collapsible brass telescope, along with some astronomy models and star charts. They buy a pair of tough black dragon hide gloves, some crystal phials, and a basic potions set. Acacia stocks up on her drawing instruments at the parchment and quill shop, and along with her parchment she gets a nice white feather quill and some crimson colored ink.

She buys some flying gear at the broom shop - not because she'll be able to use it at school, but just so she'll have it around for the rest of the summer - and then Mary reveals that Acacia is allowed to pick two presents in honor of her birthday. Acacia picks out the latest Nimbus Two Thousand (she has a series of brooms hanging in her room and would like the latest racing broom) and a pet to take with her to school. Mary and she already have a house owl and Hogwarts has school owls, but Acacia wants one for her own private use, so she goes to Eyelops Owl Emporium and picks out a beautiful female snowy owl, the best of the lot by a mile. The way the owl looks at her from her perch is very dignified, and Acacia decides she likes that. Her spirit, in his own way, approves.

They save the best for last - the magic wand.

They enter the narrow and shabby wand shop, Ollivanders, and Acacia immediately feels a wave of tingling magic wash over her. The wand boxes are piled behind the desk right up to the ceiling. She feels her spirit stir within her - this place is important.

"Miss Potter..."

Acacia looks around to find a man with pale moon eyes and wispy white hair standing before her.

"You're Mr Ollivander," she says. "I would like a wand, please."

"Patience," says Mr Ollivander, with a strange sort of wry smile. "If you'll allow me, the wand must choose you." Mr Ollivander moves closer, slowly and eerily, still looking directly in her eyes. And then he pauses in surprise. "I can't read your mind," he says.

Acacia looks away. The spirit within her feels a moment of triumph.

"Well, then I'll have to ask you your questions," says Mr Ollivander, though he is frowning. "I must get to know the relevant details of your personality somehow. But first..." He turns to Mary. "Your godmother. Mary MacDonald. I remember it like it was yesterday. Ten and three quarter inches, quite flexible, unicorn hair and redwood. You turned out to be such a redwood wand. I'm never wrong. I thought I'd gotten it wrong for a while, but then there you turn up saving Acacia Potter and raising her!"

Mary smiles uncomfortably. Ollivander seems to have that effect on people.

"What do you mean?" Acacia asks curiously.

"Redwood wands," Ollivander explains, "tend to attract owners who have lots of exciting exploits." Acacia raises dubious eyebrows at her quiet and unassuming godmother, who blushes. "But what always puzzled me about Mary's wand was that in all other respects it pointed to someone who was, while certainly a tremendously good person, a rather weak and docile witch. All Mary's life people have been bullying and underestimating her. But redwood wand owners can always think on their feet, and have a knack for snatching advantage from the jaws of catastrophe. It makes sense that in the great battle of wits that was the battle over you, she would win. And it would have taken bravery, too. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing."

"I choose my battles," says Mary softly. Acacia is reminded with a stab of shame of her anger over Draco Malfoy.

"Yes, exactly!" says Ollivander triumphantly.

"So... wands predict their owners' personalities?" Acacia asks. She can feel her spirit's curiosity echo her own.

"In many cases, yes. Now let's see about you. Normally I would distract you by trying to measure you while I read your mind, but there's no point. What matters, really, is what you _think." _Acacia isn't sure what he means. Then the questions begin. "What height would you say you are for your age?"

"Short."

"What would you say your eye color is?"

"Hazel."

"Your birthday is on an odd numbered day... What would you say you fear most: darkness, fire, heights, isolation, or small spaces?"

"Isolation."

"What would you say is your best quality: intelligence, optimism, determination, imagination, resilience, originality, or kindness?"

"Resilience."

"If you were looking into a chest and could only choose one artifact, which would you choose: a bound-up parchment scroll, a silver dagger, an ornate mirror, a golden key, a dusty bottle, an old black glove, or a glittering jewel?"

"The dagger."

"If you were on a path and came to a fork in the road, would you go left towards the sea, right towards the forest, or center towards the castle?"

"Forest."

Ollivander nods, and begins going off along the shelves, taking boxes down. He hands her wands, and tells her to wave them. He has Acacia wave countless wands, over and over again - none of them work. No magic happens, none of them do anything. They all just feel like dull strips of wood in her fingers. None of them _choose _her.

"This is good, your magic is tricky! It won't accept just anything!" Ollivander is in fits of delight. Then he pauses suddenly and says, "I wonder..."

He goes back, way back to the other side of the shop, in the shadows. He takes down a very old and dusty wand box. "I made this over fifty years ago," he admits, coming slowly back over. "I have never found an owner. Ebony and phoenix feather, twelve and three quarter inches, nice and supple." He reaches into the box, and hands the wand over to her...

Acacia immediately knows: this is the one. A long, black, handsome wand, supple and perfect in her fingers, it sends a warm thrill down her hand and all the way through her body, deep back into her power core, disturbing the spirit within with a rumble like an earthquake. She raises the wand above her head, and brings it swishing down through the air, a series of phoenix-like gold sparks coming out the end.

She holds the wand close to her face and beams, the smile lighting her face like a candle. She is already in love with it. Mary and Ollivander are clapping.

_That's what the dream meant, _she realizes happily. _Ebony. Like bone._

"You are unique, Miss Potter," says Ollivander, giving her a funny sort of smile. "You say you fear isolation, and yet ebony always chooses the owner who walks their own path and is unusually comfortable with the status of outsider."

"Yes, you always struck me as very independent," says Mary in surprise.

Acacia shrugs, looking away. "I do fear isolation," she says. "But I want it at the same time. If that makes any sense. So..." She pushes away this particular subject. "Ebony attracts independent people?"

"Ebony is best suited to combative magic and Transfiguration. It is very powerful. I believe you got this particular trait from your father, who was also powerful and also very talented at combat and Transfiguration. Those with ebony have the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual, or comfortable with the status of outsider, they hold firm to their beliefs and will not be lightly swayed from their purpose. Everything about your wand says that you are powerful, remote, yet reasonable. It's an enviable wand, Miss Potter. In a different age, many a wizard would have come and simply demanded it.

"But there's something else... Something I must tell you... The phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather - just one other. The other wand is known as your wand's _brother _or _mate. _Your wand's mate is the wand that was used by He Who Must Not Be Named."

_Lord Voldemort._

Two different things go off inside Acacia's mind. Acacia remembers the sounds of her mother screaming, the man's red eyes. Tom begins to believe that this wand was given to Acacia because she is destined to be his second life.

"What was his wand?" she asks, and she is unsure who wants to know more: her, or her magic's spirit. "What did it mean?" She is curious, despite herself.

"His wand was thirteen and a half inches, made of yew. Powerful wand, big personality. Yew wand owners are, like ebony owners, highly unusual. They tend to have a fascination with longevity, life and death. They are particularly skilled at dueling and curses, combative magic. They are never mediocre, and never timid. They protect themselves mercilessly, and yet when they truly care about something they are capable of protecting it just as ferociously as they are capable of protecting themselves - and that is saying something. Obviously, we never saw that side of this particular yew owner, and it is doubtful we will ever do so."

Tom knows this to be true, in the privacy of his own thoughts. Acacia doesn't count. She is a part of him, after all.

* * *

Acacia has a lot to take in after her wand sorting. Nevertheless, she immediately puts her wand in her cloak pocket. _Never let it leave your side, _her magic warns her and, already loving her wand, she is willing to listen.

To unwind, she and Mary spend some time walking through the other Alleys in the setting sun. The spirit sometimes tells Acacia when she's out shopping to try going down Knockturn Alley - "as an adventure" - but she always just tells him in return that he's morbid and she'd probably get pick-pocketed. She is curious. But she's not _that _curious. Knockturn is dangerous, with a reputation for the Dark, and she doesn't even know any wand magic yet. Someday, maybe. Today, with Mary, she couldn't have gone anyway.

They have dinner and ice cream at a local cafe, and only then does Mary say, "You know, the more I know you, the less I think I know."

"What do you mean?" Acacia asks, puzzled.

"You're just..." Mary smiles and sits back, overwhelmed. "You're a hard one to figure out, kiddo."

Acacia looks down, unsure of what to say.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four: Fate_

There are two articles of interest in the Daily Prophet the next morning. One is about Acacia. Rumor has it she got into a fight with an unnamed boy in Madam Malkins while buying her Hogwarts supplies. Madam Malkin was quoted as saying to a reporter, "She was defending Muggles and Muggleborns. She was very brave, really."

"Why is the boy unnamed?" Acacia asks while reading the article.

"Draco Malfoy's father Lucius probably paid to keep it quiet," says Mary. "He's a major political player these days."

But what surprises Acacia is that she suddenly starts getting fan mail. The letters swoop into her house by owl at all hours of the day or night. Muggleborns everywhere are writing to thank her for fighting for them, telling her about their struggles with being accepted as a part of wizarding society.

"I think my magic's so wonderful, but sometimes it feels like no one else does," one letter says. "I'm caught between two worlds, my parents' and my school's, and I'm not good enough for either one. When I heard that you accept Muggles and Muggleborns, I felt so freed. I hope what the article said is true."

Acacia solidifies her long-held belief in Muggleborns, and for once the spirit within her says nothing. He feels vaguely contemptuous, but he keeps silent.

The other article is about a break-in at Gringotts. _Yesterday, July 31st, a break-in was reported at Gringotts Bank in London. The criminal has not been caught or identified. Believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that very same day._

Acacia's mind immediately draws back to Rubeus Hagrid - he was emptying vault 713, taking a small item out of it for Dumbledore, on July 31st. They saw him there at Gringotts. The break-in must have happened just after she, Hagrid, and Mary left. But who would risk the wrath of goblins and the traps of Gringotts just for one tiny little item?

Acacia names her snowy owl Hedwig, letting her out to roam free around the countryside at night. She also reads through her books and practices spells and potions over the summer. Mary tells her to get in her practice while she can, because after officially attending Hogwarts she can only practice magic while she's at school. Mary sometimes assists Acacia in her practice, as does the spirit within her, with the result that she gets much farther along than she would have otherwise.

She learns how to reach for her magic and channel it through her new wand - which struggles against her the whole way; she still has to earn its trust - along with learning a few basic wand movements and, eventually, some basic first year spells. Of more value, she also learns how to time potions and chop and dice ingredients properly so her potions don't turn out weak and runny.

Acacia has another Seer's dream a few nights before she leaves to attend Hogwarts. She chalks it up to nerves. In her first vision, she sees an angry Draco Malfoy struggling to clap her in irons. In her second dream, she sees a shimmering serpent swimming through dark blue water.

She awakes and stares at the dark ceiling.

The first vision is easy to figure out. She needs to be wary of Draco Malfoy. The second vision, not so much. But she thinks she understands. The symbol of Slytherin house is a serpent, and their house element is water. Slytherins are known for their cunning and ambition.

Acacia wakes Mary and they sit in the dark, dimly lit kitchen with steaming cups of hot cocoa. "What's wrong?" Mary asks her goddaughter.

Acacia looks down at the table, thinking hard. "How would you feel," she asks at last, "if I was placed in a house besides Gryffindor?"

"I would be okay with it," Mary says firmly after a moment.

Acacia looks up quickly. "Really? Then... me not being in Gryffindor when you and my parents have been... that wouldn't bother you?"

"What house are you worried about?" Mary asks.

Acacia looks at her cautiously. "I think I might be a Slytherin," she says slowly.

Mary sits back, taking this in. "I... have not had good experiences with Slytherins," she says at last. "Several Slytherin boys used to pick on me for being a Muggleborn in school. I guess all I can say is, don't let them change you. You're great just as you are."

Acacia is still thinking as she goes back to bed later. Her spirit decides to speak up. _There's nothing wrong with Slytherin. It's a powerful house, _he says.

Acacia nods, still gazing unseeingly ahead of herself from her pillow.

* * *

When Acacia walks into the Muggle section of Kings Cross Station on September first with her godmother, she's dressed appropriately - not in robes. Having grown up around Muggles, Acacia is familiar with their dress as well as their technology. She wears a brown sweater, a burnt red scarf, and jade earrings. Her hair is tied up behind her in an oyster white hair ribbon. She pushes her trunk before her, Hedwig's cage hidden by a cloth perched above it.

Acacia looks as much as she's worth - like a million bucks. It makes her feel better. She dresses to impress whenever she's nervous and about to embark on something new.

As she's been taught, she wheels around and faces the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It's not such an amazing thing, what she's about to do - one walks through walls every day to get between the Alleys in London.

"Are you ready?" Mary asks.

Acacia nods, smirking slightly, her eyes intent on the barrier. Then she makes a run for it. She comes closer and closer to the entrance... she closes her eyes...

And when she opens them again, she's there. A wave of excitement runs through her, mingled with fondness from the spirit within. A scarlet steam engine hissing smoke stands on platform nine and three quarters. Hundreds of students carrying trunks and animals, some of them already in black robes, are amassed around it.

"There it is," says Mary's voice from behind Acacia. "The Hogwarts Express."

They find Acacia a place on the train, Acacia wandlessly levitating her things into a corner of the compartment. Everyone is so busy talking to family and fighting over seats, and there are just so many damn people on the platform, that no one has recognized Acacia yet. Once Acacia is set to go - they know she is; they checked her trunk and bedroom over many times before leaving - Acacia turns to face her godmother there on the platform.

Despite herself, she's afraid and upset. Acacia looks up at Mary for a moment, biting her lip. Mary stares back, worried. Then Acacia suddenly gives in and runs over, flinging her arms around her surrogate mother. Mary relaxes, hugging her back, and Acacia can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "I'm proud of you and I love you."

Acacia's eyes burn, though she'd never admit it to anyone. She breathes in Mary's familiar scent, and carries in her head the image of their home together, the little cottage, the fields and creek, the tiny village nearby. She will take these things with her wherever she goes. They calm her and give her respite.

* * *

She is seated in a corner of the compartment, surrounded by laughing and chatting other students. The train whistles, and then jerks forward, beginning to move. Acacia looks out the window, and watches her waving mother disappear down the platform, before the train rounds a bend and she is gone.

_On to the next leg of your journey, _says the voice in her head, reminding her of new beginnings, and Acacia smiles. She is not completely alone.

She has gotten a compartment near the front, it chalk full of other students. She sits there amid the loud noises for a few minutes, the arguments, the conversations, the laughter. Then there's a shriek from the corridor outside, and heads shoot around in that direction. Acacia stands up and moves to the compartment door, restless, to see what's going on.

A crowd of students have surrounded an older Black boy with dreadlocks. He has a giant tarantula walking down his arm, and he is grinning; it's clearly his pet. A pair of twin redheads in devil-may-care dress are calling out to him. His name seems to be Lee.

The tarantula suddenly drops down by a silken thread, hanging from Lee's sleeve; a few girls scream (Acacia rolls her eyes) and people start clapping. "That's incredible," Acacia admits in a low voice, and another, round-faced boy turns toward her and then stares, startled.

"It's Acacia Potter!" he says.

There's a sudden silence and everyone turns around in her direction, all eyes on her.

Acacia immediately retreats, shutting the compartment door again behind her. She knows the drill, and she has no attachment to the idea of dying at eleven trampled by an excited mob on her way to Hogwarts. Acacia turns around, to the suddenly avid interest of the other eyes in the compartment. She smiles uncomfortably.

From there, it seems like _everyone _wants to talk to her and meet her. The people sitting around her talk her ear off, and several students come in to introduce themselves and start conversations. Their compartment becomes a veritable train station, full of people coming and going.

Once, a group of older girls and boys get Acacia to come outside with them to the snack trolley. They buy her pumpkin juice and chocolates despite her protest that she doesn't need them to pay for her, smiling eagerly, forcing things into her hands. Acacia knows that they, like everyone else, want to be her friend - she feels a little overwhelmed.

The voice comes, whispering counsel in her ear. _Don't turn these people away. They'd be useful for networking purposes._

Suddenly, Acacia feels a tingle of magic latch onto her ankle and _tug _on it. She is tripped and falls flat on her stomach; she whirls around and sees a flash of white blond hair and a smug smirk. Draco Malfoy. How long did he practice over the summer to get that one right?

It's tough to aim at him because he's half hiding behind a compartment door, but she flashes a spell from her wand, a double-spell, a knockback jinx with a tickling charm. It hits him and he is shoved back, laughing reflexively. He picks himself up, and runs away back off into the depths of the Hogwarts Express. Acacia stares in annoyance after him. _Prick._

Students are crowding around her now.

"Acacia?"

"Potter?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says calmly, getting to her feet, and then she grins and has a fun time regaling the tale of Draco Malfoy to the people around her. She paints him to be wimpy and spoiled, a bit of a joke, relating caricaturized details with relish. Others laugh; Acacia pokes fun at herself as well as others.

Eventually, it's time to change into their black Hogwarts robes as the windows darken and the train begins to slow down. The girls take one compartment, the boys the other. Once they're all in their uniforms, a silvery voice floats magically through the train.

_We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately._

Not for the first time today, Acacia is excited.

The train pulls to a stop and they walk out onto a tiny, dark, freezing cold platform. They wrap their cloaks tighter around themselves to ward off the chill. Even in the summer, Scotland gets cold at night. Hogwarts, Acacia remembers from her reading, is built out in the wilderness on ancient Celtic ground, and is hidden by enchantments.

"First years! First years, over here!" Hagrid, the groundskeeper, has a lamp over their heads and is calling out in his booming voice for the first years to join him. He sees her in the crowd and winks; Acacia smiles. "First years, this way, please!"

The rest of the students walk one way, but Acacia and the other first years - including Draco Malfoy - walk the other. They follow Hagrid down a dark forest path, around a bend, and then they are standing suddenly on the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, is a vast castle with many turrets and towers. It's medieval; it was built in about the tenth century AD, Acacia remembers from her reading.

"There it is," says Hagrid proudly. "Hogwarts." It is incredible. _You were right, _she tells the spirit within her. _This is going to be amazing._

They all pile into little boats, which move off all at once across the smooth lake. The boats seem to be steered by magic, taking a straight line across to the other side, where they pass through an archway in the stone cliff that's framed by a curtain of ivy. There, they come to a sort of underground pebble shore, where they all clamber out. Hagrid gives one round-faced, clumsy boy his pet toad back - it was hiding in the bottom of his boat - and then they walk up steps and out into open air again.

They are now in the shadow of the castle's front. They have gone all the way around it. There is a sort of ceremony to it.

They walk through the grass and up the stone steps to crowd around the castle door. Hagrid raises a giant fist and knocks, asking to come in.

* * *

Tom has tried to be patient with Acacia through this process. Her nervousness frustrates him greatly, but it's hard to truly hate her when he can just _feel _so intensely what she feels. Tom has realized by this point that he spent all his life in a cold, dull kind of state of lifelessness. Feeling little suddenly does not seem as great as it once was. Acacia is so different.

The familiar sights of Hogwarts - his first true home, as he grew up in a Muggle orphanage, a grim and horrid place - bring him a warm kind of peace. He immerses himself in her feelings and, in a surprising bout of sentimentality, he remembers how excited he was that he was important enough to go to such a fantastical school. Hogwarts turned out to be everything he hoped it would be and more, and he is strangely glad to get back again, to see the whole process as if new.

But at the realization that the Sorting ceremony is to come, privately, he is uncertain. Not even he can block Acacia's thoughts off from the Sorting Hat. Will it see him, will it know?

Will it tell headmaster Dumbledore of the foreign invasion in Acacia Potter's head?

* * *

Acacia sees the door swing open, and standing on the other side is a tall, formidable-looking witch in emerald green robes. She has a strict face and a tight bun of dark hair. Hagrid calls her "Professor McGonagall", a name Acacia recognizes from her Hogwarts letter. This woman is deputy headmistress of the whole school, second only to Dumbledore. In another act of ceremony, Hagrid gives the first years over to her care.

Professor McGonagall leads them into the castle's entrance hall. It has a flagged stone floor and stone walls lit with torches. There's a sweeping marble staircase that leads to the upper floors. The stone corridor beyond it is lined with tapestries, moving portraits, and standing suits of armor.

Professor McGonagall leads the first years into an antechamber and gives them a short speech about the Sorting Ceremony, which will take place in the Great Hall before the rest of the school, and the different houses they can be Sorted into. She's tough but fair, showing no bias toward any house. After the Sorting Ceremony will be the welcoming feast, and only after this will they be official Hogwarts students.

Professor McGonagall leaves them in silence to prepare the Great Hall for their arrival. Acacia is calmer than most of her classmates. Mary already told her what the Sorting Ceremony will consist of, and because of her dream vision she has a pretty good idea of what house she'll be in. She does get a bit of a start when the resident ghosts suddenly stream through the back wall - there's lots of ridiculous female screaming again - on their way to their seats in the Great Hall, but after some brief friendly comments to the first years the ghosts move on quickly.

Professor McGonagall has returned by this point, and she leads Acacia and the other first years in a line across the entrance hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall is magnificent. Four long gold tables contain the different houses, all tables lined with glittering gold plates and goblets. Hundreds of candles float above the hall. The ceiling is covered in moon and stars, reflecting the (currently clear) weather outside, as Acacia remembers from her reading. At the top of the hall is a long teacher's table, which includes Hagrid, Quirrell (in an amusingly absurd purple turban), and Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall leads the first years up to the top of the hall in a line, their backs to the teacher's table and their fronts to their peers. It could not get any more obvious that they will be judged based on what the Sorting Hat decides about them here. Speaking of the Sorting Hat, it's set on a stool in front of them - pointed and black, but patched, frayed, dirty, and unappealing looking; they could at least have kept it in better shape - and it sings its introductory song to the collected hall.

It describes the different houses, which is the song's main function. Gryffindor is the place where "the brave at heart" dwell, their chief qualities being "daring", "nerve", and "chivalry." Hufflepuffs are "just", "loyal", "true", "patient", and "unafraid of toil." Ravenclaws are "wise", "ready minded", "of wit and learning." Slytherins are "cunning", using "any means to achieve their ends."

They are called by Professor McGonagall in alphabetical order to sit on the stool with the Sorting Hat on their head, and after a pause where it reads their mind, the hat announces their house. Acacia recognizes several people by face. The boy with the lost toad, Neville Longbottom, is sorted into Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy is made a Slytherin, much to Acacia's keen displeasure.

In total, the new Hufflepuffs are Ernie MacMillan, Wayne Hopkins, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Zacharias Smith, Samuel Moon, Hannah Abbott, Leanne Johnson, Megan Jones, Eloise Midgen, and Susan Bones. The new Gryffindors are Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Sally-Anne Perks, and Faye Dunbar. The new Ravenclaws are Trevor Boot, Michael Corner, Kevin Entwhistle, Stephen Cornfoot, Anthony Goldstein, Morag MacDougal, Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Su Li. The new Slytherins are Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis.

And then there is Acacia's turn.

When Professor McGonagall calls out her name, "Potter, Acacia!", whispers break out all over the Great Hall. All eyes are on her, people leaning forward, waiting eagerly in their seats. It's sort of ridiculous.

Acacia goes over to the stool, sits down, and lets the hat slip over her eyes. She waits.

And then something very strange happens. A voice starts up in her ear, the hat's, but it keeps fading in and out, switching tones and voices. It's almost like something has jammed, malfunctioned. The hat is babbling.

"A talented girl, clever but unusually emotional - _A lost boy, cast out by his fellows - _I don't - _I don't - I can't -"_

_What's going on? _Acacia asks in her head, panicked and annoyed.

Her spirit's voice appears, sounding frustrated. _It's confusing between the two of us. It's just a magical object. It doesn't understand._

_Well - I don't understand - is our connection not normal?_

_You're an unusually powerful witch, Acacia, the hat just can't - Here, let me - _And she feels him retreat, a painful silence where he usually is. The door slams shut between his mind and hers. And then there is quiet. Peace and quiet.

The hat trails off, and then suddenly resumes as if all is normal and nothing happened at all.

"Let's see here, yes... A talented girl, clever but unusually emotional... Cares more than she lets on... Delights in the ridiculous... Highly social and yet determined to walk her own path... Unusually unaffected by those around her... Stubborn, resilient, resourceful... Independent... Has the potential to be highly dangerous, single minded... A certain disregard for the rules...

"Your clever mind makes you a possible candidate for Ravenclaw, but really there's no question of what to do with you. That will be SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

Acacia can feel the scales tip in a certain direction as she walks to her cheering house table. She has gone up in the estimation of some and down in the estimation of others. So it goes with life. As she slides into her seat next to a blonde girl named Daphne Greengrass, Acacia feels the spirit slip easily back into her mind and settle himself there.

The Sorting finishes soon after. Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, is the last to be Sorted. Then the Sorting Hat and stool are taken away. Dumbledore is his usual odd self, smiling whimsically and beginning the feast with the randomly shouted words, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Then, as if his words have been some sort of odd summoning, the food appears magically on their plates and the start of term feast begins.

The food impresses Acacia in that it's actually very healthy and filling, lots of meat, potatoes, and vegetables. Water, juice, and milk stand in pitchers along the table, mingled with little dishes of after dinner mints. After that are pies, tarts, and bowls of ice cream. She sets to eating, hungry after the long day of travel, and after a while she notices a strange feeling. It is as if someone is watching her. She turns around, and sees a dark haired man with a hooked nose watching her quietly from the staff table. (There is a start from the spirit within her.) She looks into his black eyes, and he looks back, searching and searching...

Acacia nudges the older girl next to her, a dark-haired fifth year with several earrings, and points. "Who's that?" The man at last looks away, back to his conversation with Professor Quirrell.

The girl smirks. "That magnificent bastard? That's our head of house, Professor Snape. He's the Potions master, but he's supposed to be amazing at combative magic, too. Ha. That's probably why Quirrell looks even more afraid than he usually does. Snape is pretty reserved, but he protects his Serpents."

"Why was he staring at me?" Acacia asks.

"Behind that blank facade, he's wildly excited. 'Shit yes! We got her!' That's what he's thinking." So says another older boy farther down the table, grinning.

Acacia smiles back in humor. She decides to stop over analyzing everything and settle down to her feast.

She gets to chatting in between bites with her fellow first years, about families and classes. They have seven main classes for their first two years: History, Herbology, Astronomy, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense. The boring stuff is reserved for the first years. The farther along they progress, the more interesting the magic gets - well, according to others with older siblings, anyway. As for families, they all grew up in the wizarding world - well, all except for one.

"What about you?" Daphne Greengrass asks a quiet brown-haired girl with glasses at the end. The girl looks down, her shoulders hunched in.

"My name's Tracey Davis... My father's a trash collector," she says quietly, humiliated.

Draco Malfoy and a pug-faced girl named Pansy Parkinson immediately start laughing their heads off. "Your father's not only a Muggle, he picks up _shit _for a living?!" Draco asks incredulously. Pansy is howling. Tracey's face is bright red; she's glaring, her fists clenched.

"My mother's father was a gardener, which means he _worked _with shit for a living," says Acacia louder, icily, jaw clenched, "and most everyone in this room would probably agree I'm the most powerful first year at this table."

That shuts the first years up.

"We'll see about that," says Draco at last, angrily, his eyes calculating. "Banking on your fame much? Your father must have had to make up for a lot, dealing with your Mudblood of a mother."

"That's nothing to the shame your mother must face every day, being married to a petty criminal," Acacia retorts, acidic. Draco's eyes narrow.

"This is better than a Quidditch match," says Blaise Zabini, grinning and sitting back, looking from one to the other.

"Alright, alright, what's going on over here?!" The dark-haired girl with the earrings breaks in, glaring around the table. She is actually fairly intimidating. Nobody gives; a silence descends over the group. The girl smirks. "Well," she says, "you _are _Slytherins. My name's Gemma Farley, I'm your main prefect, and _I'm _here to talk to _you _about what it's like being a Slytherin." She sits down on the edge of the table next to them.

"Now, there are a few things you should know about Slytherin – and a few you should forget.

"Firstly, let's dispel a few myths. You might have heard rumors about Slytherin house – that we're all into the Dark Arts, and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard, and rubbish like that. Well, you don't want to believe everything you hear from competing houses. I'm not denying that we've produced our share of Dark wizards, but so have the other three houses – they just don't like admitting it. And yes, we have traditionally tended to take students who come from long lines of witches and wizards, but nowadays you'll find plenty of people in Slytherin house who have at least one Muggle parent..." Here, Gemma looks sideways, faux casual, at Tracey, who relaxes slightly. "And as fellow Slytherins, they're exempt from getting picked on, according to _me," _she adds firmly, and Acacia decides she likes Gemma.

"Here's a little-known fact that the other three houses don't bring up much: Merlin was a Slytherin. Yes, Merlin himself, the most famous wizard in history! He learned all he knew in this very house! Do you want to follow in the footsteps of Merlin? Or would you rather sit at the old desk of that illustrious ex-Hufflepuff, Eglantine Puffett, inventor of the Self-Soaping Dishcloth?

"I didn't think so.

"But that's enough about what we're not. Let's talk about what we are, which is the coolest and edgiest house in this school. We play to win, because we care about the honor and traditions of Slytherin.

"We also get respect from our fellow students. Yes, some of that respect might be tinged with fear, because of our Dark reputation, but you know what? It can be fun, having a reputation for walking on the wild side. Chuck out a few hints that you've got access to a whole library of curses, and see whether anyone feels like nicking your pencil case.

But we're not bad people. We're like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood.

"For instance, we Slytherins look after our own – which is more than you can say for Ravenclaw. Apart from being the biggest bunch of swots you ever met, Ravenclaws are famous for clambering over each other to get good marks, whereas we Slytherins are brothers. The corridors of Hogwarts can throw up surprises for the unwary, and you'll be glad you've got the Serpents on your side as you move around the school. As far as we're concerned, once you've become a snake, you're one of ours – one of the elite.

"Because you know what Salazar Slytherin looked for in his chosen students? The seeds of greatness. You've been chosen by this house because you've got the potential to be great, in the true sense of the word. All right, you might see a couple of people hanging around the common room whom you might not think are destined for anything special. Well, keep that to yourself. If the Sorting Hat put them in here, there's something great about them, and don't you forget it.

"And talking of people who aren't destined for greatness, I haven't mentioned the Gryffindors. Now, a lot of people say that Slytherins and Gryffindors represent two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think Gryffindors are nothing more than wannabe Slytherins. Mind you, some people say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor prized the same kinds of students, so perhaps we are more similar than we like to think. But that doesn't mean that we cozy up with Gryffindors. They like beating us only slightly less than we like beating them.

"One more thing you might need to know: our house ghost is the Bloody Baron." She points down the table to the ghost of a gaunt, blood-stained man in chains. Gemma leans closer, putting a hand over her mouth, and whispers, "If you get on the right side of him, he'll sometimes agree to frighten people for you. Just don't ask him how he got bloodstained; he doesn't like it."

* * *

Toward the end of the feast, remembering, Acacia looks back around toward the staff table to see if Snape is still watching her. Snape isn't... But she looks into the eyes of the man beside him, Quirrell, just as Quirrell happens to glance up. Acacia immediately feels a pain shoot across the scar on her forehead; it throbs and she winces instinctively, looking away. The minute she stops looking at Quirrell, the pain fades.

"Are... you okay?" Daphne asks from beside her.

"I, uh..." Acacia laughs slightly and looks up. "I think it's just been a long day."

She's faking it. In reality, she's worried.

* * *

The minute Tom looks into Quirrell's eyes, there's a connection.

He can _feel _the main spirit, the leading consciousness, _feel _him inside Quirrell's head. And all of a sudden, Tom's soul hurts. It _wants. _It wants to feel, what Acacia provides, but more than that it wants... to be whole again?

And this surprises him. It troubles him. To put his soul back together would weaken it deeply, and logically he knows this. But the fact that even Acacia can feel the pain makes it hard to ignore.

Why is _he_ here? Obviously, he has possessed that man, that weak man. (Tom cannot blame his other self for being forced to choose a weak vessel. It's not every day that a vessel like Acacia comes along, and he congratulates himself. She is powerless now, but she will grow far stronger, stronger ever than Quirrell.) But why is he here in the first place?

The only thing Tom can think of is that he must be after that mysterious, tiny artifact, the one Dumbledore had moved. It must be powerful indeed, to have him risk coming here to get it. What could it be? And is it here, at Hogwarts?

_Where?_

Tom waits, but Quirrell does not glance at them again. His other self is weak. He cannot sense what's going on, the way Tom can. Yes, Tom feels he has the superior vessel indeed.

Dumbledore stands to make his announcements at the end of the feast. He gives the usual notifications: the forest on the grounds is off limits, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, no magic between classes in the corridors. But then he says something else. "Also, this year, please note that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

If Tom could have, he would have smiled. _Thank you, Dumbledore._

So that's where it is.

* * *

Acacia laughs all the way through the school song. It's ridiculous, and it's just her kind of ridiculous. Blaise Zabini is also laughing, though several other Slytherins look disgusted and appalled.

Then the students are all dismissed and the new Slytherins are led by Gemma Farley to their house quarters. They don't have far to go. They walk out into the entrance hall, and then down a flight of stone steps to the dungeons, which are cold and made of stone. Water drips somewhere unseen. They walk past the darkened Potions classroom, past several storage rooms and a few actual dungeons complete with chains, and then they stop along a seemingly blank, damp stretch of stone wall.

"You have to say the password to get through," Gemma says over her shoulder. "It changes every fortnight. Never tell anyone our password; people have been kept out of Slytherin quarters for the past seven hundred years. This fortnight, the password's Ashwinder."

The wall slides aside to reveal the entrance to the common room.

They walk inside to a dark stone chamber, bathed in an eerie green light. "We're underneath the lake," says Gemma. "Check it out. It's like being on some sort of ghostly underwater shipwreck." She points.

All the windows along one side of the common room lead out to the bottom of the Black Lake. The new Slytherins walk slowly to the windows and look out to the dark waters beyond, the green, murky gloom. The lake floor is muddy, marked with little pockets of dark weed, and the farther out into the lake they look, the darker and harder to see the waters get. A school of angelfish swims past out in the distance. Just as Acacia is watching, a small, horned, pale-green water demon peeks out from a patch of black weed. It lifts its fingers, snarling silently at them.

"That's a Grindylow," says Gemma, noticing Acacia's stare. "There's also a giant squid and a colony of merpeople down here. And the merpeople don't exactly look like they do in all the pictures."

Acacia eventually tears her eyes away from the lake, and turns back around. The common room is littered with low-backed black and green leather sofas, and dotted with dark wood tables and cabinets. There seems to be a general skull theme. Silver and green lanterns hang from the ceiling, but only emit faint light; beyond them is shadows. Several high back chairs are drawn close to an elaborately carved mantelpiece with a fire crackling underneath.

She doesn't think, in that moment, that her house could get any more incredible.

They are led down a corridor to their dormitories. There are five first year girls in all, and five beds in their vast stone dorm room. The beds are ancient fourposters with green silk hangings and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins hang from the walls. Another silver lantern hangs in their dark room.

Acacia pulls on her cream colored nightgown and falls into bed, getting to sleep quickly. The sounds of the lake water lapping against the dorm room window lull her to sleep.

* * *

That night, Acacia has a very strange dream. Two men, their faces in shadows, are pulling her back and forth over a large pile of gold. She wakes confused and afraid. Will someone try to take her money away from her? Why couldn't she see the two men's faces?

Tom sees the dream too, but even in the privacy of his own mind, it makes little sense to him. He has always prized power and fame more than money or titles. Besides which, he has no wish to compete with his main self.

How absurd would that be, two fragments of soul from the same grown man fighting over the fate of a girl?


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five: Recognition_

Eyes follow Acacia from the moment she leaves her dormitory the next day. There's a new hesitation to them, though. People will stare, she'll meet their eye, and then they'll look quickly away, pretending they hadn't stared. This puzzles Acacia. It must be because she was Sorted into Slytherin.

Speaking of Slytherin, the house is indeed helpful in navigating her way through Hogwarts. The older students band together to help the first years get to their classes on time. The help is necessary, because Hogwarts was built during a time of wizarding persecution in Europe, and was deliberately designed to be confusing in case of danger.

If a staircase doesn't have a trick step, it leads somewhere different each day you climb it. The doors sometimes won't open unless you do something in particular - and the doors will never tell you what that thing is - and then sometimes the walls pretend to be doors with the result that no matter what you do you can't get through them anyway. Sometimes portrait subjects will follow students through the paintings, the suits of armor take great amusement out of talking to the students and then standing straight and doing nothing when the students whirl around, many of the passageways are hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries with the result that corridors just suddenly seem to end in walls for no explicable reason, and the only reason the Slytherins don't have to worry about the mischievous resident poltergeist is because the Bloody Baron "scares the shit out of him" (one older boy's words).

Even outside classes, Hogwarts is hard to navigate - the baths are never in the house quarters, which means one has to find them in the castle in the dark armed only with a bathrobe and a wand, and there's one particular girl's toilet that's haunted by the ghost of a wailing teenage girl called Moaning Myrtle. If you're unlucky enough to be closest to that one, you either have to try to pee through Moaning Myrtle screaming, "STOP PEEING ON ME!" from the depths of her toilet, or go find another toilet.

The result is that for the first week, the Slytherins are the only first years always to arrive at their classes on time.

Classes go well. In the first few days, Acacia has all her lessons except for Potions and Flying. Professor Binns, a droning old ghost, is her History teacher; Professor Flitwick, a chipper little old man, is her Charms teacher; Professor McGonagall, strict and clever, is her Transfiguration teacher; Professor Sprout, a messy and absent-minded woman, is her Herbology teacher; Professor Quirrell, stuttering and shy, is her Defense teacher; Professor Sinistra, a quiet dark-skinned woman, is her Astronomy teacher. The Herbology classes go on in the school greenhouses and Astronomy is done at the top of a tower every Wednesday at midnight, but all other classes are done in traditional classrooms.

Acacia shows budding talent. Her wand has already started to trust her after all her practice over the summer, she's intimately aware of her own magic and how to channel it to make it do certain things, and she's academically prepared because she's already read through all her texts. As Ollivander predicted, she shows particular strength in Defense and Transfiguration.

At night, Acacia sneaks out to explore the castle and grounds on her own. This is technically against the rules - Hogwarts has a curfew - but years ago Dumbledore gave her a silvery invisibility cloak that used to belong to her father. As long as she's wearing it, none of the ghosts or patrolling teachers - not even Filch the school caretaker or his cat Mrs Norris - can detect her as long as she moves silently.

She learns how to navigate the school, finds hidden passageways and the massive school library and the infirmary, and explores the grounds. She finds, in addition to the lake and the greenhouses, the school graveyard, the Quidditch stadium, and Hagrid's hut out by the forbidden forest. Acacia is curious about the forest, but decides to wait until she has more magical experience before venturing inside. The forest is supposed to be full of dangerous creatures. There's a centaur clan in there, and centaurs are not fond of humans, but then there are rumored to be any number of other things as well, from werewolves to giant spiders. Vampires like to frequent forests, too. It's not that Acacia is afraid, necessarily, just that she'd rather be able to defend herself with more than sparks and a knockback jinx before heading down that particular route.

Her spirit, though he's thrown out hints that in his life he was once a Hogwarts student, mostly lets her explore and discover for herself. There are two things he shows her. One is the Room of Requirement, a fascinating hidden room accessed by walking three times before a blank stretch of wall that's across the corridor from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet, and then by thinking of something you want; the wall will then become a door and the door will open to a room that gives you whatever you need. (Short of something like food or gold, which no magic can create from scratch.) The spirit claims he used it often himself when he was at school.

The other thing he wants her to explore is the forbidden corridor on the third floor.

_If I die, I'd like you to know it will be all your fault, _she says to him in her head as she walks one night underneath her cloak toward the forbidden door.

_I'd be distraught, I'm sure. _The words are deadpan. _And besides, you are forgetting, I would probably die too. I didn't enter your soul voluntarily, and so I can't leave it voluntarily either. _

_Why do you want to see this place, anyway?_

A pause. _I think the mysterious artifact someone is after might be hidden in here, _he says at last, cautiously.

Acacia tries the door, but it's locked. She takes out her wand and flicks it at the door. "Alohomora." The door unlocks and swings open - and there on the other side, squinting at her in surprise, is a massive Cerberus.

Acacia closes the door again very quickly and locks it. She stares, breath still held, at the wood for a moment.

_I don't care how much I like you, _she says firmly at last, letting out her breath, _there is no way I'm braving a Cerberus for you._

Her spirit never likes it when she tells him things like this, but in their struggles of mind and soul, she always pulls out stronger. She can be quite stubborn when she wants to be. So it's not like there's anything he can necessarily say.

This time, however, his tone is thoughtful. _It's insignificant in any case. It has to be in there. You saw it, didn't you? The dog was standing on a trapdoor._

They realize as one: _It's guarding something._

* * *

Acacia sends regular letters to Mary through Hedwig, and she always gets back replies, a little piece of home just for her. Hedwig will bring the letters into the Great Hall for her during breakfast. But Acacia also finds herself, to her surprise, making new connections within Hogwarts as well.

The Slytherin first years divide themselves into three basic "sections." One section consists of Draco Malfoy and his friends, two massive boys named Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Another section consists of the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson and her friends, a massive girl named Millicent Bulstrode and the quiet Tracey Davis, who seems to be trying to compensate for not fitting in family-wise by attaching herself to Pansy Parkinson. There is one outlier, Theodore Nott, a quiet and formidably intelligent boy who befriends no one and doesn't seem to care to.

The final group consists of Acacia and her first two friends at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass.

Daphne, blonde and refined, is a quiet girl, with a wonderfully pricking sense of humor. She smirks and makes a lot of jokes, but underneath that she seems to be basically a good person. Unlike Pansy, she is not prone to judgments and bullying, and she seems to have a good sense of right and wrong. She is, in her own quiet way, even friendly, if a bit stuck up. Sly and clever, she gets excellent grades in class, and is never silly and ridiculous like many of the other girls.

Blaise, a handsome Italian boy, delights in the ridiculous almost as much as Acacia does, and has a particular disdain for Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, who consider themselves "cool." His mother is known as the Black Widow - she's on her seventh marriage, each husband dying under mysterious circumstances and leaving her and her son richer - and he has a positively alarming knowledge of poisons. Like his mother, perhaps, he doesn't care for most people very much, but very bad things happen to the people who bother the ones he does care for.

Both Blaise and Daphne admit that if it weren't for Acacia, they would probably have lied through their teeth to try to fit in with their surrounding peers. But with a powerful person, at least among their year if not in the school, to get behind, they feel freer to show how they really feel. This is why Daphne and Blaise naturally gravitate toward Acacia. Both of them privately consider hating Muggleborns to be absurd, if just for procreational reasons - if it weren't for Muggles, wizards would all be ridiculously inbred.

The reason why Blaise and Daphne needed someone to get behind in order to admit this is that this pits them against the rest of their year, if not the rest of their house. Blaise and Daphne come to accept Acacia as their leader.

Acacia is vocal in her disagreement with Muggle prejudice. She challenges Pansy and Draco's bigoted remarks at every turn, incurring the disdain of even Theodore Nott (whose father was also suspected of Death Eater activities). She doesn't think there's anything wrong with Muggles (and secretly, she suspects, this is why Gemma Farley seems to have an unusual fondness for her). The most she'll agree to is that there should be some Wizarding Culture classes at Hogwarts in place for Muggleborns. Anything past that, she gets very annoyed, and is not above mocking the other person as they speak. In the common room, she and Draco get into long and heated debates about a Muggle's role in the world. (Pansy's not that intellectual.) The debates often become very personal, reduced to name calling and family insulting, and usually one of them ends up storming away.

Draco and Pansy - and their selected cronies - begin doing little things to get back at Acacia, like leaving dangerous insects from Care of Magical Creatures classes in her bed and trying to hex her when her back is turned. Gemma Farley gets angry with the first years, to little effect. Acacia puts up with it for a few days, and then asks her spirit for help. He sighs in a long-suffering way, but tells her exactly what to do like he'd known it all along. Draco, Pansy, and their friends end up bound in white cloth like mummies hung upside down in the dungeons, and no one has any idea how or why it happened. The last thing any of them remember is falling unconscious.

They're all hauled into Professor Snape's office, where Pansy and Draco try to pin the blame for the act on Acacia. "_She _did it!" Pansy shrieks, pointing.

"I did not, and you have no proof I did, and you know it," says Acacia, smirking. Professor Snape looks at her with narrowed dark eyes. Something makes Acacia decide to take a chance. "Professor, can I talk to you alone for a minute?" Might as well start out with her head of house on the right foot.

Professor Snape is a soft-spoken man of few words, usually deadly ones. "Get out," he says flatly to the other first years, and they leave quickly. "What is it?"

"Professor, the reason why they think I did this is because they've been picking on me," says Acacia carefully. "I don't think there's anything wrong with Muggleborns. Because, you know, my mother was one. But they don't agree, and so they've been picking on me. They think I did this to get back at them. I have at least two people who I think can back me up on this - Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass."

Professor Snape watches her for a moment. Acacia looks down and tries to look suitably miserable and contrite. "Get out," says Snape at last. Acacia looks up in surprise. "You're not in trouble," he clarifies simply. "Get out. Tell them to come back in."

Acacia is not sure what he says, but no one ever tries to pick on her for her beliefs again.

From there, Blaise and Daphne draw even closer to her. It also helps that Acacia starts doing something her spirit has recommended. She practices the spells she's learning hard, and then once she's gotten them she _pretends _to practice them out in the common room where everyone can see them. In this, she shows off her magical potential. One time, outside before Herbology, she even shows some of her house mates Parseltongue. She doesn't spread it around like crazy, so if rumors go around they can't be traced back to her, but just the idea that Acacia has the ancient Slytherin bloodline ability is enough to impress most people in Slytherin.

Wanting to do what Gemma suggests and get on the house ghost's good side, Acacia also goes up to the Bloody Baron and tries despite her nervousness to talk to him. He never responds, staring emotionlessly out the window before him, so she basically keeps up a ten minute conversation with herself before walking away, sort of embarrassed. But the following night, the Baron floats over and sits down quietly beside her while she's reading in the common room. He says nothing, but she talks to him about what she's reading, and he listens. Acacia wonders if perhaps he just wants someone to fill the silence. Soon, it's all over the school that Acacia Potter has made friends with the Bloody Baron - and the Bloody Baron is easily the scariest spirit at Hogwarts.

This is all why Blaise and Daphne find her a safe person to cling to. She espouses their beliefs while coming off as powerful and under the protection of Snape and the Baron. It is, as many things in Slytherin are, largely political.

But from there, a genuine friendship is grown. They share their favorite music, and laugh at all the cool kids, and debate things, and play games of Exploding Snap and wizard's chess together, and share candies. They trade spell advice and go through mock duels. It's... nice. Acacia comes to realize eventually that she trusts Blaise and Daphne. They seem to be good people. Her spirit warns her that trust is dangerous, but Acacia knows she can't go through life trusting no one but her godmother.

She has to make friends somewhere.

* * *

All classes are taken as a whole house. The Slytherin first years always learn together. But sometimes classes are also taken jointly with other houses of their same year. Astronomy is done with the Hufflepuffs, Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and Potions is done with the Gryffindors.

The Potions classroom is an easy walk - also in the dungeons, it's just down the hall from their common room. As Draco Malfoy is walking into the Potions classroom, so is a red haired Gryffindor boy. Draco says, "Blood traitor." He pulls on the boy's shirt and then pushes him over so that he falls down and his books go everywhere. The boy glares up at Draco from the floor, but says nothing. Draco and his friends snigger and continue on into the classroom.

Acacia makes an irritated noise and Blaise rolls his eyes. After a pause, Acacia walks over to the boy - Ron Weasley, she thinks - and offers him a hand to help him up. Ron and a few other Gryffindors stare at her and her friends distrustfully.

"Don't worry," says Blaise, deadpan. "We still hate your guts."

"Draco and Pansy are just awful people," Daphne sighs, as though the whole thing is very tiring. She examines her fingernails, reserved.

Ron at last takes Acacia's hand. "Thanks," he says as he gets to his feet.

(To Acacia's surprise, after this, all the people she met on the Hogwarts Express are suddenly willing to approach her again. The nervousness to the stares is gone. She becomes one of the most well known people in school. Rumor travels fast.)

Potions class brings a few surprises of its own. Professor Snape spends a lot of the period testing her personally - it's almost like he wants her to prove her worth. She answers his questions correctly and brews her first potion well. She notices an evolution in him over the course of the period. He slowly grows in favoritism, warming to her and praising her more and more, until over the next few days she will become one of his favorite students. She notices a shuttered expression come over his face whenever he sees her - that watchful stare. She somehow feels safer around her head of house.

At least she does better than Neville Longbottom. The boy turns his cauldron into an acidic blob and because of the resulting explosion has to be taken to the infirmary. Snape _hates _him. "Idiot boy!" he snaps - Snape is not always so nice a man. He is, in fact, cold toward everyone _except _the Slytherins.

* * *

Flying lessons take place on the grassy field near the school. The Slytherins are learning with the Gryffindors. As the Slytherin first years walk over toward where Madam Hooch - a sharp-tongued, Quidditch-obsessed woman with boyish grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk's - is standing with two lines of brooms, Draco Malfoy is bragging.

"I've been flying for years," he says loudly, glancing over at Acacia purposefully. "This'll be easy for me. Did you hear about that time I -?"

"Yes, Draco," says Acacia flatly. "We've all heard about that time you -" She stops suddenly, pretending shock. Blaise lets out a little laugh; Acacia suspects he simply finds being around her to be amusing.

Draco flushes slightly, his eyes narrowed. "I wasn't talking to you, was I, Potter? Talking to Crabbe, wasn't I?" Nonetheless, he seems a little sullen as they walk up beside their brooms.

Acacia looks down at her broom and sighs. "I'm offended," she says airily. "I only ride the best of everything. What on earth am I supposed to do with this?" She's only sort of kidding as she waves to the broom, turning to Blaise. It's old, beaten, at least four models past, and some of its twigs are sticking out at odd angles.

Blaise points to Daphne's school broom. "Hey, Daphne, check it out."

Daphne backs up, eyes widening. "I am _not _riding that." Blaise and Acacia start sniggering. "Oh, yes, very mature. I'll have you know, if you were dying in a burning building, I would not save either one of you."

"I'm hurt."

"Wounded."

"What's wrong, Acacia? Don't think you're up to it?" Acacia looks around to find Draco smirking at her.

"I'm positive I'm up to it," says Acacia. "I just don't think _it's_ up to _me_. I'm going to ask it to do something and the broom is just going to whither away and _die_." She makes an exaggerated face and hand gesture, demonstrating. Draco seems reluctantly amused.

"Here they come!" Millicent Bulstrode shouts, and everyone looks up, more guarded. There come the Gryffindors.

It doesn't take long after the Gryffindors' appearance for disaster to strike. They have just mounted their brooms. Neville Longbottom kicks off the ground before the teacher has even blown her whistle. He shoots straight up into the air and then promptly falls off his broom. Acacia puts a face in her hand as he falls to the ground with a thump.

It's funny. But it's also just so painfully _sad_.

The Slytherins manage to keep their humor inside just long enough for Madam Hooch to go off with Neville back toward the castle and the hospital wing. Then Draco Malfoy bursts into laughter, and that sets everyone else off. What follows is an exaggerated mimicry of Neville Longbottom's fall, from the perspective of a few different people. Acacia feels bad for laughing, but it is actually pretty hilarious. The Gryffindors scowl at the Slytherins, defending their own.

Then Draco Malfoy goes off into the grass and picks something up. "What's this? It fell out of Longbottom's pocket?"

"That's a Remembrall," says Blaise. "It was created specifically for forgetful people." He smirks.

"Neville got that from his grandmother, give it back!" says Ron Weasley heatedly.

Draco Malfoy laughs and simply backs up, still clutching the Remembrall.

By this point, the humor has started to fade from Acacia's voice. "Draco," she says, still smiling, "I think that might be going a little bit far. Neville's bad enough in school that he might actually need that." Blaise and Theo snigger behind their hands.

"Aww, what's wrong, does little Acacia like Neville?" Pansy asks in her baby voice. Acacia is reminded yet again of just why she dislikes Pansy Parkinson.

Draco, meanwhile, is smirking. "What'll you do for me if I give it back to you?" he asks crassly.

Acacia's eyes narrow. She darts forward with trademark speed, snatches the Remembrall from Draco's hand before he can react, and then promptly throws it at him, bouncing it off his head. "Ow! Christ!"

Even the Gryffindors laugh that time.

Acacia smirks, picking up the Remembrall, and tosses it back to Ron Weasley, who catches it smoothly. It feels weird to be working so in conjunction with Gryffindors. Oh well. Draco was being an ass.

Now that everyone's laughing at Draco, he's turned bright red. Glaring, he lunges forward and grabs her by the collar, getting right up in her face. She can see the details of him up close, can feel the heat coming off of him.

Acacia is still smirking, but quieter. "Madam Hooch will be back soon. And I'm getting to be a pretty good duelist. Do you really want to pick a fight with me right now?"

"I'm not afraid," says Draco immediately. But at last, he lets her go, and he backs up cautiously. It's a turning point moment.

Meanwhile, Pansy glares from Draco to Acacia and back again. Then she huffs and tells Draco, "Exactly. She's just an ugly talentless, anyway. Nothing special." She gives Acacia another side glare out of the corner of her eye.

Flying lessons go well for Acacia. She's a naturally good flier with lots of experience. Draco competes with her furiously, striving to outdo her at every turn. And to Acacia's surprise, so does Pansy Parkinson. But unlike Draco, who wants Acacia's recognition... Pansy keeps glancing over at Draco.

_Pansy _wants _Draco's _recognition.

* * *

Dumbledore, a surrogate grandfather, invites Acacia into his office after her first couple of weeks of school are over. She walks up to the statue, says the password ("Lemon drops"), and the statue of the gargoyle springs aside to allow her entry to a rotating spiral stone staircase. She steps on it and it moves her, like an escalator, up to Dumbledore's office door. She knocks on the door with the brass griffin knocker.

"Come in."

She walks inside, to find a round room covered in bookcases and little silver instruments whirring on tiny end tables. Portraits of sleeping headmasters and headmistresses snooze in their frames. A brilliant red and gold phoenix sits on a gold perch beside the door. "Hello, Fawkes." Acacia has met Fawkes before, and he always makes her feel warm, safe and brave. She reaches out and pets him, and he coos musically.

"Well, and Acacia, how have you settled in?" Acacia looks over and sits down across from Dumbledore, before his sweeping, oak, claw-footed desk. He smiles pleasantly, his eyes sparkling, watching her with his hand steepled.

"Oh, alright." She looks away idly, scratching her leg, a little uncomfortable - as always - with talking about how she is feeling. "The house is great. Very supportive, if very... political," Acacia chooses the word at last carefully.

Dumbledore chuckles. "I know exactly what you mean. The last head of Slytherin house, Horace Slughorn, was my good friend. And that is exactly how he was. A great friend, but very... political."

"The house quarters are incredible."

"I'm glad you like them." Dumbledore is watching her carefully.

"You're worried," she realizes suddenly. And then she is annoyed. "You're worried my pure, sweet innocence will be corrupted by Slytherin."

"I would never call you sweet, Acacia. To do so would, I think, to you be a grave insult. But I must admit, I was at first worried about how you would react when surrounded by such waves of Pureblood ideology."

"Snape didn't talk to you?" Acacia asks in surprise. And then she explains to him about Draco and Pansy, their arguments, their vindictiveness, her revenge, and Snape protecting her. She tells him how reactions toward her beliefs have since mellowed. She also tells him about Blaise and Daphne.

Dumbledore chuckles. "How fascinating..." he says lowly after a moment, looking unseeingly to the wall behind her. "It appears I have been worried for nothing." He sits back, quite at ease. "Perhaps it is you, Acacia, who will change Slytherin."


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six: Frights and Fights_

Time moves by fast at Hogwarts. Acacia wakes up one day and realizes two months have passed. Today is Halloween.

Though she mentions it to no one, she knows that today is also the tenth anniversary of her parents' deaths.

After classes, a great feast is held in the Great Hall in honor of one of the wizards' most important magical holidays. They walk inside the Great Hall to the scent of baking pumpkin. Huge jack-o-lanterns are set along the tables, and live bats flutter around by the arched ceiling.

"Oh, goodie," says Daphne, ducking as one flies past her, "animals." Her tone is sarcastic. Daphne is freakishly neat, and she does _not_ like animals.

"We should try the same spells we were practicing yesterday," says Blaise thoughtfully, ignoring Daphne with practiced ease. "After dinner, you know? See if they're any stronger on Halloween than usual. What do you think?"

He turns to Acacia, who shrugs. "We could try it," she says. "For now, let's just enjoy dinner."

They sit beside the Baron, who even many members of Slytherin house are a little nervous of, which explains the empty seats around him at the table. "Hello, Baron," says Acacia casually, sitting down and reaching for some of the huge array of food along the table.

The Baron, as usual, says nothing. Acacia has only heard him speak once. It was to correct on her on something she had said. He has a deep, hoarse voice.

_Where's Quirrell? _the spirit in her head asks suddenly. She looks up and scans the staff table. Quirrell is not there.

_I don't know, _she responds, puzzled by his interest. _Maybe he's just a little late letting out his last class._

She feels the spirit shift, dissatisfied with this explanation.

They're about halfway through the Halloween feast when the Great Hall doors suddenly slam open. Quirinus Quirrell runs inside, white faced. "Troll! In the dungeons! Troll in the dungeons!" Everyone pauses, gaping at him. "Thought you ought to know," he says weakly, and then sinks to the floor in a dead faint.

There are sudden screams. People jump up out of their seats; there's a huge cacophony of noise. It takes several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring silence. In a stern, rumbling voice, he orders the prefects to lead their houses back to the dormitories, and the teachers to follow him to the dungeons.

The Slytherins, of course, cannot go back to their house, because it _is _in the dungeons. Everyone turns, pale, to Gemma Farley, who sighs irritably. "Sometimes," she says, "it is _so _obvious that the headmaster was a Gryffindor. Alright, here's what we're going to do. I don't care what the other Slytherins do, but I'm making an executive decision. The eleven of us are going to lock ourselves in the Charms classroom. You understand me? Follow me."

She leads them through the crowds out into the entrance hall and up the marble staircase to the upper floors. Acacia is walking alongside her classmates, brisk and trying not to be nervous, when all of a sudden something odd happens. She feels a ripple inside her mind, and abruptly she is not in control of her own body anymore. She feels herself begin to turn around, and walk in another direction...

The spirit. The spirit has control of her body, and he is not going with the other Slytherins, nor is he going toward the dungeons.

For some reason, he's heading to the third floor.

* * *

It's a perfect opportunity and Tom knows it. There is no way anyone possessed by his spirit would be afraid of a mere troll, so Quirrell must be up to something. With all the other teachers in the dungeons, now would be the ideal time to try to get past the Cerberus.

He isn't long walking the corridors before two pairs of footsteps catch up to him.

"Acacia! What's going on?" That's Daphne, sounding concerned.

"You can't _possibly _be stupid enough to try to confront the bloody troll?" That disbelieving voice belongs to Blaise.

"No," says Tom shortly, in Acacia's voice. He looks back at them, analyzing them. "Come along, then," he says at last. "Hurry, and stay quiet."

Confused, they nonetheless follow willingly enough. Farther back, Tom can sense another magic following theirs, sneaky - that magical signature belongs to Draco Malfoy. Let the boy come if he wishes. Perhaps if he proves himself he could eventually be of some use.

When the stench appears and they hear huge, shuffling footfalls, Tom pulls the other two behind a statue. The great looming shadow of the troll appears in the corridor. It has a massive green body, long arms, and a tiny head. It's a rather small one, probably come from the surrounding mountains. Tom takes out Acacia's wand, aims, and whispers a spell. The spell hits the troll and with a huge crash it falls over, unconscious. Daphne shrieks in shock a little as it falls.

"_Shit," _Blaise breathes, staring at the troll's fallen form.

Tom has no time for this. The crash could have alerted the other teachers. "Come on," he says impatiently, and they hurry past the troll and down toward the third floor corridor. When the door comes into sight, it's already open.

Cursing, Tom hurries, running through the doorway only to see - the growling Cerberus, lunging and snapping at Quirrell, who's evading it deftly enough, wand out, watching it searchingly, all previous traces of fear, shyness, or nervousness gone. Blaise and Daphne give a quiet gasp and press their backs flat against the wall, half hiding behind their friend.

"Quirrell!" Tom barks. "What's going on?"

Quirrell looks around in surprise, and then a calm, cruel smirk twists his face. "You're not after the Philosopher's Stone, too, are you?" he asks mockingly.

... _The Philosopher's Stone. Of course. _Suddenly, it all fits into place. The Philosopher's Stone is an alchemical artifact that supplies endless gold, but more importantly, it also produces the Elixir of Life. His other self wants to come back.

"It's really too bad you came here tonight, Miss Potter," says Quirrell, and Tom realizes in surprise that neither spirit in Quirrell's body has realized who he really is. Quirrell raises his wand. "You're a lovely girl, but you're far too meddlesome. I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you..."

And, at the worst possible moment, Tom feels Acacia's mind slam into his, unseating it.

* * *

It takes time for Acacia to fight her way back to the forefront of her own consciousness. She feels helpless, and she _doesn't _like it. But she manages to find a way while the spirit's mind is distracted. She suddenly latches onto his, shoving the necessary information out of it.

What she finds stuns her.

The spirit she's talking to has all along been a sliver of the soul of Lord Voldemort, left behind on the night of her attack. It lives inside her scar and has taken a place within her mind. Another sliver has possessed Quirrell, and it wants the Philosopher's Stone, but is too cautious of Dumbledore to try for it ordinarily. Horror fills her, horror and anger.

The dream of the two men fighting over her. She's been such an idiot.

Determined to rectify this, she fights her way back into main consciousness and boxes _him_ into a little corner of her head. This time, _she's _the one who slams the door shut and locks it, instigating silence. No more conversation, no more control. No more nothing.

She feels him pounding on the mental door, shouting to get through, but she keeps him at bay. This is _her _head, after all. And he's no longer welcome here.

"_Acacia, duck!"_

Acacia is brought back to the world around her by a scream from Draco Malfoy. All of a sudden, she realizes three things: Quirrell is about to lift his wand to perform a deadly curse, the Cerberus is lunging out toward both of them, and Draco Malfoy has just shoved himself into her. She falls over onto the floor. The curse goes above her head, the dog's breath and teeth go just past her, and Blaise and Daphne shriek and dodge as well.

She can hear Draco's voice in her ear. _"Are you retarded?!" _

At the moment, Acacia is tempted to tell him that yes. Yes, she is.

* * *

Meanwhile in the empty Charms classroom, Gemma looks around, counting her first years frantically. Almost half of them are missing.

"Where the hell did they all go?!" she shouts incredulously.

* * *

The dog has retreated for another lunge, and Quirrell has paused in surprise. Blaise reaches over, yanks Draco and Acacia to their feet, and the four of them look fearfully up at the danger before them.

"Well," says Quirrell, smirking, recovering, "why don't I just let it kill all of you?"

"That won't be happening."

It's too good to be true. Acacia and her friends look around... Snape is standing there in the doorway, his wand out. His glare is very, very threatening. "Get out." He nods his head past him. They run out into the corridor, Snape backing up in front of them, wand still out.

The sounds of teachers' shouts and footsteps can be heard now.

Quirrell retreats from the room as well, scowling. He and Snape face each other, wands out, for a split second. Then Quirrell gives in and backs away, getting around the corner and then making a run for it.

Without further ado, Snape slams the third floor corridor door shut and grabs the first years by the scruffs of their necks, dragging them down a hidden passageway away from the teachers. Acacia is tempted to thank him, but one look at Snape's thunderous face tells her this is not such a good idea. They get to Snape's private office and he slams the door shut, whirling around to face them.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Acacia has never heard Snape lose his temper before. Her friends glance sideways at her uncertainly and she stares pointedly down at her toes, stony and silent.

"I suppose you understand, by this point, that we are harboring a criminal in our midst, trying to catch him in the act of stealing a legendary Philosopher's Stone? And that this criminal now knows you're onto him?" Snape's tone is still furious.

Acacia keeps her head down, and says nothing. Shame is growing within her. She always thought she was smarter than this. At the worst possible moment, tears burn in her eyes.

There's a heavy silence for a moment.

"Sir," says Daphne at last, hesitantly, "I think her intentions were good -"

"Yeah," says Blaise, looking up. "I think she was just trying to -"

"Silence!" Snape has his hands on his desk, and he's breathing hard. It's as if he ran to make it there in time - or, perhaps, as if he was frightened he _wouldn't _make it there in time.

Draco is watching Acacia sideways in concern. She can feel his eyes on her, and for some reason this bothers her.

"You are going," says Snape tightly after a moment, "to have to start being more _careful_."

Acacia takes a deep breath. "Yes, sir," she says softly.

He's right. She _is. _Acacia believes she's been quite the fool.

* * *

Severus Snape cannot believe the girl's nerve.

The first time he saw her in the Great Hall was as visceral as a punch to the gut. She looks so much like Lily. Lily's daughter. The girl Lily gave her life to protect. It's like looking at her again. When she laughs, when she smiles, when she talks - it's a miracle.

That she is Sorted into his own house is a surprise. That she proves to be intelligent and teachable an even more pleasant surprise. But then, she came from a talented witch. It is no surprise she would be one herself.

When she says she's been picked on over her parentage, she reminds him of himself.

But Quirrell - and the Dark Lord. She has had a connection to them from the beginning. He knew it from the moment he saw her wince in pain when she looked into Quirrell's eyes that night in the Great Hall. Dark forces will be moving against Acacia, and he must protect her from them - protect her like he couldn't protect Lily.

But even he didn't think she would be stupid enough to just _walk right into an attack from Quirrell. _What would possess her to do something like that?!

A part of him wants to be furious with her. But he can't hold onto the anger - not when he sees her so upset. Besides, he knows deep down that his anger just covers a larger feeling. Fear, cold and cloying.

Perhaps this is going to be harder than he'd thought.

* * *

Acacia lays in her bed in the Slytherin dormitory late that night. It's dark all around her. She can feel the spirit struggling to talk to her again, to communicate with her, but she keeps the door shut. She doesn't let him speak. For the first time in over a year, her mind is terribly silent.

Tears fill Acacia's eyes.

* * *

Tom needs a body. He knows if he has any chance of returning, he needs that Stone. Perhaps it is only natural - to want to triumph over his other self, to want to be the one to come back instead. And to get the Stone, he _needs_ a body.

But Acacia won't let him through.

And, though it shouldn't, on a personal level this... _bothers _him.

* * *

Acacia keeps up her silence toward Tom all the way into November. If she seems a little quieter and paler than usual at first, everyone just chalks it up to her fright on Halloween. (All four of them get an earful from Gemma for wandering off.) Eventually, she gets more used to the quiet in her head, and to closing off that piece of Voldemort that lives inside her. Harder to shake off is the sensation of being somehow tainted, different from everyone else around her. Acacia fakes a lot of smiles and tries to ignore it.

The ground grows icy, the sky grows grey, and the surface of the lake freezes over. Classes are beginning to get more interesting now that they have mastered the basics. Acacia focuses on hanging out with Blaise and Daphne - and with Draco, who despite being a total ass did in fact save her life and actually seems to care about her. They still compete like mad and argue all the time, but the dynamic's different.

Quidditch matches start up between the houses. Acacia goes to them all, with Draco, because Blaise and Daphne are pitiable enough to think Quidditch is stupid. Slytherin plays rough - plays to win, for the honor of the house - and in fact wins a lot. One annoying aspect is Lee Jordan's commentary. Lee Jordan is a Gryffindor, and his take on the matches involving Gryffindor is decidedly... _biased._

"Slytherin scores! Oh no..." Lee says all too often, and sometimes when a Slytherin comes into contact with a Gryffindor he'll insult the Slytherin player. Marcus Flint, the Quidditch captain, actually says once that Lee has been good for the Slytherins - he's good training in forcing the players to keep their emotions out of the game.

All of this would be perfectly fine, if it weren't for the fact that Quirrell and Snape keep following her around everywhere. Snape is obviously trying to protect her from Quirrell. But Quirrell, though he gives no outward sign of it, appears to be trying to get Acacia alone somewhere.

Acacia fears one of her teachers is after her life.

* * *

It takes a while for him to get her alone. But she's walking on her own back to her common room from the library one day, and she hears a soft set of footsteps behind her. She glances over her shoulder, trying to be casual - it's Quirrell.

Acacia immediately ducks into the nearest girl's toilet, realizing at the last second that it's Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

She walks up to the sink, hands shaking, and looks into the mirror, into eyes that seem to her sunken and frantic. She turns on the faucet, splashes some water on her face, and waits for Quirrell to leave.

She feels a sudden moment of panic when the door flies open and he walks right into the room.

"Oh, really," he sighs, watching her frightened expression as she slowly backs away, hand on her wand. "You thought that would keep me out? First years can be so silly."

Acacia tries to push him back with wandless magic; he waves his hand and sends her flying irritably. She rolls over on the floor and starts throwing jinxes at him. He takes out his wand and activates a Shield Charm, something she's not advanced enough to know how to do yet, and the spells bounce off the gold shield harmlessly. Acacia waves her wand again and sends a jet of fire across the space between them, keeping him out, but the floor is wet and the line of fire is weak and flimsy. She backs up against the wall, trapped.

Moaning Myrtle has floated up out of her toilet, looking confused. Acacia tries to nod her to the door without Quirrell seeing. _Get someone._

Myrtle nods and floats away, melting through the far wall.

Quirrell spends a couple of minutes trying to get through the line of fire. He sends out a jet of water, she meets his spell with a jet of fire, and she holds on against his power. He's so _strong. _It must be the other piece of Voldemort inside him. At last, Quirrell just gives up, lowering his spell and dodging out of the way of her fire. He shoots a deadly curse directly over the line of fire at her.

Acacia closes her eyes in preparation for death.

* * *

For the first time in a month, Tom can break through the barrier in her mind, and that should have been his first clue that something was wrong.

He looks up and through her eyes just in time for him to see her fight begin with Quirrell. She puts up an admirably good fight, for a first year, but from the beginning there is only one possible victor. Quirrell is an adult wizard. There's no way Acacia can defeat him. And in her body, with her untrained magic, there's only so much even Tom could do.

He sees the curse coming at her, and knows it's not his own magic, so Lily's protection won't apply. Then it all goes black. After a terrible moment, he realizes she's not dead, but is preparing herself for death.

The idea of Acacia dying fills him with an inexplicable sort of anger.

He writes it off as personal indignation. If she dies, so will he. So from here, he has only two options. He can sit here in her head and hope she is undamaged enough that he can continue to stay alive. Or...

Or he can place his soul before her own and risk dying, but give her a greater chance at life.

The choice should have been easy. Life is what he's always grasped at with iron hands. It's what he's created Horcruxes trying to achieve. There is too much he still has to do.

And yet... Tom imagines Acacia's body compulsively, cold and pale and dead, eyes open and glassy - like Myrtle's. Like Myrtle's in this very room. And with Myrtle's death, he felt nothing, but now he puts Acacia in the same place and he realizes that... that Acacia's death would _upset _him. He feels _her_ emotion fill him, painful and bittersweet and strengthening.

He thinks for a moment, hysterically, that she's ruined him.

Then Acacia gasps as she feels him push her out of the way and take control of her body himself. He puts his soul on the line.

Not content to sit and wait for death, Tom reaches for the wand in her pocket just as the light comes at him... And then another light, equally strong, rams into the spell coming at him, pushing it harmlessly away.

When Tom looks up and the light's glare fades from his vision, Quirrell is gone. Snape and the Baron are standing in the doorway, Snape with his wand out.

* * *

Later, Acacia is sitting cross-legged on her bed in her dormitory, her eyes closed. The room is dark. She is meditating.

She and the spirit speak to each other in her mind.

_You risked your life saving me, _she says after a moment into the quiet. _Why?_

_I don't know, _he admits, and it sounds like this frustrates him. Then he puts a memory before her, a memory of a feeling. _Acacia... what's this? I've felt it from you plenty of times before, but that's the first time I've ever felt it from myself._

Acacia pauses in surprise. _That's... love, _she says.

There is a disbelieving pause, and then the spirit laughs humorlessly. _You're telling me the emotion that's been making me strong all this time - it's something as ridiculous as love?_

_Yes. People love each other. That's how it works. I love my family. I love my friends. There are lots of different kinds of love. For example, Professor Snape cares about me, and so does the Baron, and that's why they came to save me. That's its own kind of love. And that's why people get angry and sad when they lose friends and family... because they love them. Did... No one ever explained this to you, did they? _she adds wonderingly.

There is a bitter pause. _I grew up in an orphanage, _he admits after a while. _I was loved by no one, and I loved no one. You're telling me this is a normal experience? One I should always have had? How entirely... __**maddening.**_

_People risk their lives for each other because their love matters more to them than their life, _says Acacia. _So what you're saying is... you care about me?_

_I have grown to, apparently. Don't let it go to your head. _The spirit is flat, sarcastic. _This... is something I should have foreseen... something I had not considered..._

She can feel him retreating into himself. But she has one last question for him. _What do I call you? I know you're supposed to be Lord Voldemort... But when I think of that name, I think of the man who killed my parents. And somehow, I'm not sure you're entirely that person anymore._

Something about her wording startles him. It takes him a long time to contemplate his answer. _Once, _he admits at last softly, _my name was Tom._

* * *

Acacia and Tom come to an uneasy truce. Acacia won't bring him back to the way he was, won't allow him to go after the Stone. But she allows him a place in her head and her heart, a warm place to stay and a place to live. She allows them to continue to communicate, as his fragment of soul grows stronger.

She knows she's taking a risk. Eventually, he might grow stronger than her and just do what he wants anyway.

But though Acacia doesn't like it, and realizes it's stupid, she knows she's missed her friend.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven: Christmas Wishes_

Quirrell perhaps thinks he's shown too much of his hand, because Acacia doesn't hear much of him outside classes throughout December. Acacia knows he must be waiting for another opportunity to sneak into the third floor corridor without the presence of Dumbledore and Snape.

Snow comes to Hogwarts, a full foot of it. The grounds are suddenly blanketed in white, and the corridors and dungeons are freezing cold. Everyone gets very cozy wrapped in cloaks around the fires. The Slytherin first years all pick teams and have snowball fights out on the grounds, each team striving furiously to out-cheat the other. (Fighting dirty is totally allowed in the name of beating the competition.) Daphne lets Acacia borrow a pair of her ice skates, and they skate together over the surface of the frozen lake.

Their last class before Christmas break is Potions. Snape most decidedly does _not _get into the Christmas spirit. He assigns them all to brewing a cold-inducing solution. At the end of the period, Acacia smiles, walks up, and hands him the solution smoothly - she knows it looks right; he nods to her - and then she's free! She practically runs for her bookbag.

As they're walking back out of the dungeons and up to the main part of the school - Acacia has a vague plan for grabbing some sandwiches and curling up in front of the Great Hall fireplace - they meet a Christmas tree with a giant pair of boots underneath it at the top of the staircase. "Hagrid," Acacia says in exasperation, "the dungeons are this way. Can you even see where you're going?"

Hagrid puffs. "No," he says. "Could you... point me in the right direction?"

"He's not even intelligent enough to find his way to the Great Hall?" Draco asks from behind Acacia.

"Christ, Draco," says Acacia, "do you always have to be such a ponce? He just can't see around the tree. This way, Hagrid." She grabs Hagrid's sleeve, the highest part of him she can reach, and yanks him toward the Great Hall. Blaise and Daphne follow behind her smoothly.

"Can we come?" Ron Weasley asks in a friendly way. He's indicating to himself, Seamus, and Dean.

"Sure! Great Hall looks a treat!" calls Hagrid over his shoulder through his puffing. (The tree must be twelve feet tall.)

"What's wrong, Weasley, are you wanting to -" Draco begins scathingly.

"_Christ, Draco, do you always have to be such a ponce?" _Ron mimics, and as his friends laugh, Draco flushes.

Acacia ignores them. "Hagrid, did you get that from the forbidden forest?"

"Yup. Cut it down meself," says Hagrid.

"But I thought the forest was very dangerous?"

"Eh. Not if you know it well enough. The centaurs and everything, they like me, so, I'm alright."

"You're also gigantic," Blaise observes helpfully. Acacia gives him a look that means he's being tactless. "What?" Blaise asks, faux innocence. "He is."

The Great Hall looks spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe adorn the walls, and Christmas trees line the hall. The trees are decorated with magically created icicles and bubbles of varying colors, and with hundreds of ever-lit candles.

"I'm almost sorry I'm not going to be staying," Acacia admits.

Daphne yawns. "Don't be. It'll be _so _much nicer back at home."

"You're all leaving?" Ron Weasley has come in behind them.

"Yes," says Acacia. "And you three?"

"Seamus and Dean are leaving. My parents are taking a Christmas trip to Romania with my little sister, so I'll be staying here with my brothers." Ron shrugs.

Acacia smiles and winks. "Let me know how the Christmas feast is, alright?" she says, brushing past him.

She can feel the boys stare after her. "... Whoa," she hears Seamus mutter.

* * *

That night - her second to last night before leaving for home - Acacia has a Seer's dream.

In her dream, she is floating ghost-like along corridors, past a suit of armor, and into what looks like an unused classroom. But there on the opposite wall. There is a tall, standing gold mirror with clawed feet. She looks into it, and sees a fragment of the mirror show a very familiar face: beautiful, with red hair and sparkling green eyes.

"_Mum?" _she asks, ducking toward the mirror, and then she wakes up with a start.

She stares at her hangings for a moment, trying to process this. There's a mirror somewhere in an unused classroom at Hogwarts that shows her mother? Could this possibly be true?

_One way to find out, _she hears Tom's voice echo in her mind. Despite himself, he is curious. Agreeing, she sits up, sliding her hangings aside. She pauses, listening. Everyone else is asleep. She can hear Pansy's and Millicent's snores. She reaches down underneath her bed for her trunk, pulls the silvery invisibility cloak from it, and wraps it around herself.

Then she stands and goes to the door, carefully and silently opening it and shutting it again. She walks down the corridor and out into the darkened Slytherin common room. Lit only by the light of the green glow coming from the windows - a mermaid is passing on by, long and sleek, with grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair, yellow eyes and a necklace of pebbles - she walks, quiet and invisible, to the stone door, which she slides aside to to enter the corridor outside. Down through the dungeons and up into the main part of the castle she walks, up the marble staircase and along corridors until she finds the familiar ones..

The suit of armor! There! Excited, she moves forward, and there are the hunched black shadows of the school desks, and there across the room from her is...

"There it is," she whispers. "The mirror."

She walks over to it slowly, looking into it and seeing... herself. Herself surrounded by her dead parents, her godmother, and her friends. All of them together as one, and happy. She frowns and looks closer at one of the friends. She doesn't recognize his face. He's tall, and dark-haired...

_Tom? _she asks at last, tentatively. _Is that you?_

He looks through her vision, and pauses in surprise. _That is how I once looked, _he answers at last. _Before the Dark magic..._

_Why, what are you seeing? _And before he can stop her, she sees through his eyes. She sees the same young man, in the Slytherin common room alongside Acacia. Also with them are a dark-haired man with silver tints who must be Tom's father, and a plain, brown-haired woman with startling, snake-like eyes. The four of them are... happy.

Tom shuts her out abruptly. There is a long moment of silence.

_Are those your parents? You were a Slytherin? _Acacia asks at last.

_I don't want your pity_, he hisses.

_I'm not pitying you. I was just thinking... we saw the same thing. We're both orphans, aren't we? _Tom pauses in surprise, and Acacia smiles sadly at the image before her. _The mirror must show us what we want. _Thinking hard, she shifts the image, and there they are included: Tom's parents. She smiles brighter. _See?_

_... You puzzle me deeply, Acacia Potter, _says Tom quietly.

* * *

The next night, she brings Blaise and Daphne along with her, underneath the invisibility cloak.

"I still can't believe this," Blaise is hissing. "You're a Seer, you have an invisibility cloak, and you've found a mirror that shows your heart's deepest desires... And you're only just telling us about it _now_?"

"I have my secrets. I'm sure you have yours," Acacia replies.

"It's all very exciting, Acacia," Daphne smiles, and she's genuine. That's one of the things Acacia likes about her.

They enter the mirror room, and Acacia lets each of her friends have their turn stepping in front of the mirror. Blaise goes first.

"... What do you see?" Daphne asks at last.

"Chocolate pudding," Blaise responds sarcastically, staring flatly at the image.

"Oh, Blaise, be serious. I told you I saw my parents with the rest of my family, didn't I?" says Acacia.

Blaise looks away from the mirror bitterly. "I see myself with my biological father," he says after a while.

Neither Acacia nor Daphne know what to say.

When Daphne stands in front of the mirror, it's a little happier. She sighs and puts her clasped hands before her cheek. "I see myself in the arms of a faceless, handsome man," she says.

"Very deep," Blaise comments dryly.

"We can't all be as deep as you, Blaise, okay?" Daphne is annoyed, but amused, her hands on her hips.

"How is he handsome if he's faceless?" Acacia squints as she tries to picture it. "That sounds kind of creepy."

Blaise sniggers and Daphne informs them for the thousandth time that they're both horrible people.

* * *

Leaving for break is when Acacia gets to see how the older students travel to and from the Hogwarts Express. The lake is frozen over, so even the first year students are put in the carriages. They're black and pulled by invisible horses, with headlamps attached to their fronts. They smell vaguely of mold and straw, and they're very bumpy. The horseless carriages take Acacia and her friends (Draco, Blaise, and Daphne all sit with her) through the snow, down the mountain to the end of Hogwarts grounds, where they pass through gates with stone winged boars heading them and on into the wizarding village of Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade looks like a Christmas card. All its little cottage-like buildings are covered in snow. They make it through Hogsmeade and to the station, where they catch the Express back to London, which is where their families are scheduled to pick them up.

The Hogwarts Express ride is... interesting. All the Slytherin first years sans Theo cram into one compartment together, and then Seamus and Dean come over (Neville is terrified of almost every Slytherin, but especially of Draco Malfoy). This makes things slightly uneasy - Dean is a Muggleborn - but at a pointed look from Acacia and a reminder that she herself is a half blood, Draco and Pansy decide it best to keep quiet. Acacia and Draco argue with Seamus and Dean about Quidditch as the other Slytherins lounge back with their trolley sweets and watch in amusement.

Acacia gets to the station and looks up - and beams. There is Mary, waiting to pick her up. She runs forward, and gives her godmother a giant hug. Mary stumbles back, laughing slightly. It is so good, after all this time, to hear her voice.

This time, noticing it, she feels when Tom quietly touches into what she's feeling.

They get Acacia's trunk and owl loaded onto a cart, and then wheel it into the station for the long journey home.

* * *

"So these children are already forming factions?" Mary asks disbelievingly, hearing about Acacia's Slytherin friends. "Oh, Acacia, I don't know if I like that... Things were always just so much more - _relaxed _\- around Gryffindor house."

"That sounds nice," Acacia admits. "But I think I'd have gotten bored with it."

"Oh, no, there was always fun," Mary reminisces warmly, smiling. "Parties, you know? I don't suppose there's much of that around Slytherin house."

"Not as much. There is fun, though. I mean - we all hang out in the common room, I read or draw or we play games together. There's sarcastic humor. We make fun of celebrities. It's not... it's not what you think it is," says Acacia at last. "There's always fun, there's just... an edge to it. If that makes any sense."

"Well. No edges here." Mary smiles.

"I know," says Acacia. "It's... soothing."

* * *

Acacia and Mary have a fun time decorating their house together. They tramp outside in their snow boots and coats, Mary waving her wand and pushing the snow away to clear a space around their house. Then they stand up on a ladder and put up lights around their roof's awnings.

The lights are not electrical - electricity doesn't agree with magic; the stronger the magic, the more the electricity goes haywire - but one wouldn't be able to tell that from a distance. What Mary does is show Acacia a spin on the Lumos spell.

"Instead of making a light come from the end of the wand, you're going to make a colored ball of light float out of your wand and hang somewhere," says Mary. "The magic will only short out if you die. Which, obviously, isn't happening anytime soon."

Acacia smiles uncomfortably. She has not told her godmother about Quirrell, and she has told no one about the precious fragment of soul locked inside her head.

Mary shows her and asks Acacia, "Why don't you give it a try?" Acacia tries a few times - the colored light she pictures in her head keeps sparking and then fading on her wand tip. "Try using more of a swishing motion," Mary recommends. Acacia waves her wand - and it works.

Smiling, she places the purple light on the house, letting it float there on the roof.

"It's a neat little charm," she says.

Once they decorate the house, they also decorate their Christmas tree inside. They hang lights on the tree, along with reams of popcorn on string. A few ornaments are hung up that have emotional significance to them: an ornament from their first Christmas together, a moving photograph ornament of the two of them, a few ornaments they've bought together, etc.

In the end, the tree doesn't look near as magnificent as the ones at Hogwarts, but Acacia decides she likes it anyway.

On Christmas morning, Acacia spends some time riding around outside in the frigid cold air on one of her own brooms. It moves to her lightest touch, never reaching sideways or going off kilter. Then she comes inside, cheeks flushed, and she and Mary have a quiet Christmas meal together: honeyed ham, creamy mashed potatoes, and chocolate tart for dessert.

They pull some wizard crackers afterward. The crackers emit several loud bangs and fill the room with blue smoke. They gain several silly hats and a hamster (who will soon dissipate in a few hours). Acacia nevertheless dubs it Smokey and lets it run around on their living room rug.

Mary and Acacia sit in their living room underneath the tree and open presents together.

Acacia's first present is from Mary and typically motherly, several warm sweaters and cloaks "for all those cold Hogwarts Decembers." Her friends in the nearby village have also sent her little packages of Muggle chocolates, just something they give out to all their friends around Christmastime.

From Dumbledore, she gets a beautiful, gold monogrammed, empty mahogany photo album. _For your place with all of your new friends, _says the attached note.

From Blaise, she gets a book of obscure or hard to find curses and potions. Daphne gives her a nice pair of ice skates and a yellow gold necklace with a shimmering opal as its pendant. Draco has gotten her some new Quidditch gear, and also a white peacock feather quill that came from a peacock in the gardens attached to his family's mansion. (Why is everyone in Slytherin house so very rich?)

Snape also got her something, to her surprise. It's a summoning scroll. She can touch the rune on it if she's in danger and he'll be alerted and will try to find her. She smiles fondly, touched. It is very like him.

The Baron sends her a series of black, blue-flame candles that can withstand freezing temperatures, which are often used in ghostly celebrations.

And, also to Acacia's surprise, she gets gifts owled in from her fans. Most of them are hand illustrated Christmas cards, the drawings charmed so that their subjects move. Acacia looks down at the picture of a waving snowman and smiles.

It is a lovely Christmas.

* * *

She sees her Muggle friends over the holidays, curling up with blankets at their place and watching Christmas movies. The rest of break is very lazy. She relaxes, kicks back, and regains some perspective. Hedwig is very at home in the wintery weather; Acacia lets her out and watches her fly across the white fields under the moon every night.

Eventually, too soon, it's time to pack and go back. She takes up her trunk and owl and once again makes the long trip up to London to catch the Express. A hug and a kiss from her godmother and a slightly worried, "Be careful," and Acacia is back in the compartment with her friends.

She spends the rest of the day moving between compartments and carriages until she sets her suitcase down - with relief - in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. She listens to the excited shouts of students around her echo up and down the marble staircase, and she smiles.

It's good to be back.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight: Obstacle Course_

The homework is really pounded into them as finals approach. They get homework all throughout their Easter break, and everyone spends much of their free time in the library. Quidditch matches start up again, and dedicated fans make it even out in the rain to cheer their respective teams on. Acacia is, of course, among them, as are Draco and Gemma.

Hagrid the groundskeeper's hut burns down one afternoon after he tries to tame a baby dragon in secret. Hagrid has to move back into the castle briefly until a new home is built for him, something the Slytherins find extremely funny.

"Monsters usually have a hidden side, something that calms them," Hagrid explains to Acacia one afternoon in the entrance hall. "With a Cerberus, for example, it's music. But dragons don't really seem to have anything like that. That's where the trouble came in."

"So, in your eyes, raising a dragon did not automatically mean trouble?" asks Acacia disbelievingly.

The baby dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback, is sent to Romania to live in a colony. Hagrid has to pay a fine for hatching an illegal dragon in his hut.

It is around this point when Tom begins to feel his other self getting stronger. He tells her about it, troubled, one day.

_But... I don't understand... How is he getting stronger if the Stone hasn't been stolen? _Acacia asks worriedly.

_That is the question, _says Tom pensively. _I suspect unicorn blood. There are unicorns in the forbidden forest. But..._

_But?_

_It would be a last ditch effort. People who slay and drink unicorn blood are said to be cursed._

_So he's cursing himself?_

_Not himself, _Tom reminds her coldly. _Quirrell. Why should he have to pay the price himself?_

_Oh, Tom, that's cruel._

_It's life. Quirrell put his faith in the wrong person._

_But you wouldn't tell me to do something like that._

_I know you wouldn't anyway. You're too stubborn._

Acacia isn't sure what to say to this. She somehow gets a bad feeling about it all. Has Voldemort given up on the Stone? Or are he and Quirrell preparing themselves for some major attack?

Finals come at last, in the midst of the summer heat. Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense are all practical finals. Herbology and History are written finals. Astronomy combines both - they have to chart a certain constellation using their telescopes. None of them are terribly difficult, if the person's been working hard all year. Flying - of course a practical - is nice to be done with. Next year, she'll be able to fly more as normal, without supervision. The problem is, all throughout finals, Acacia can feel Tom shifting restlessly inside her mind.

_He's preparing for something, _Tom says at last, later that evening in the common room. _I can feel it._

Torn, Acacia at last puts down her book. She smiles fakely to her friends and says, "I'll be right back." Then she goes down the hall to Professor Snape's quarters. But to her surprise, the door is locked and the window is dark. She knocks several times, but no one answers.

Worried, she heads up the staircases to Dumbledore's office. She spouts candy names until the gargoyle springs aside, then goes up the rotating staircase, tries the door... and that one's locked, too.

Where have they gone? Acacia suddenly gets a horrible feeling of dread.

_Acacia! _Tom's voice suddenly echoes in her mind. _He's using magic!_

Acacia looks up, her face white. Dumbledore and Snape are gone. The Stone.

_Shit._

* * *

She hurries back to the Slytherin common room, her face white. "Acacia...?" Draco sits upright curiously, and others look up as well, but Acacia runs past them into her dormitory. She grabs the summoning scroll out of her trunk and jams her finger against the rune over and over again. She grabs up her invisibility cloak, stuffing it in her pocket. Then she puts the scroll down and hurries back out to the common room.

"Blaise, Daphne." She nods toward the door out of the common room, her face grim. They raise their eyebrows, but stand immediately.

"What's going on?" Draco asks, annoyed.

"Is it a secret?" Pansy asks eagerly.

Even Theo looks curious.

Acacia realizes that, though they get along better than they used to, she doesn't trust them. Not with this. "It's about something Snape said to me," she says. "And yes, it's private." This is one of the only things that will get their curiosity to die down. No one wants to go up against their head of house.

Blaise and Daphne follow her out of the common room. "Make sure no one's following us," she mutters, walking ahead of them with purpose. Daphne and Blaise take lookout positions as they follow her up the stairs to the blank stretch of wall that hides the Room of Requirement. She walks up and down before the wall.

_I need a place to hide, _she thinks. _A place where no one can hear my conversation._

"Acacia -?" But Blaise has paused in surprise. A steel door has appeared in the wall. Acacia hurries to it and yanks it open.

"In here," she says. They hurry in behind her to find themselves in a small, empty dark room with padded, soundproof walls. A chain is across the door on the inside so no one else can get in. Acacia locks the door and then turns to them.

"You can't ask me how I know this," she said, "but Dumbledore and Snape are gone and Quirrell's just gone after the Stone. I think he's going to use it to try to bring back the Dark Lord."

They gape at her.

Acacia pushes ahead. They don't have much time. "I have alerted Snape, but he's not going to get here in time. What we need to do is find our way through the trapdoor and try to stall Quirrell for enough time for Snape to get here. I asked you two to come with me because to try to do something like that alone would be stupid. But all together... the three of us might have a chance."

"And why would we risk our lives like that?" asks Blaise. "What's in it for us? I mean, we're Slytherins from wizarding families. We're his ideal. What do we have to worry about?"

Even Daphne looks uncertain.

Acacia sighs, thinking. Why did she want to stop Voldemort so badly - aside from the fact that he killed her parents? "We have to protect the wizarding world," she says at last. "I'm not sure it could handle another war like the last one. All the destruction and needless bloodshed. And then, imagine if he won. Muggles and Muggleborns would be rounded up and killed en masse. Our kind would suffer enormous setbacks. It would take decades, even centuries, to get the wizarding population back to what it once was.

"Besides, I myself would definitely die if he returned. I would be an example of what happens to people who defy him. I have to try to stop him, don't I? Even if it's stupid, I have to try."

They look at each other silently across the space for a moment. "I'll come," says Daphne at last. "Maybe there's a chance that together, the three of us can trick Quirrell, stall him."

Blaise pauses, and then sighs, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he says. "But alright. I'll come."

Acacia approaches Tom in her mind, almost hesitantly, defenses on the ready. Since warning her, he has remained silent.

_You won't try to stop me, will you? _she asks.

_... No, _he says. _I will only interfere to protect you if he tries to kill us. In return... I would like for you to help me become stronger. If this part of me returned, it would be better for you, would it not?_

Acacia pauses for a moment, torn. Then: _Deal, _she says.

* * *

The three of them hide under the invisibility cloak and ghost silently to the forbidden third floor corridor door. It's already open.

"Great," Blaise breathes. "I take it you have a plan for getting past the Cerberus?"

Acacia remembers Hagrid's advice. "The minute we get inside, we close the door and we start singing."

"... _Singing_? That's your plan?" Blaise asks.

"I'm a horrible singer," Daphne moans.

"Look, do you trust me or not?" She turns to them underneath the cloak. "Have I steered you wrong yet?"

And at last, quietly, they acquiesce. Trembling, they walk through the forbidden door, and shut it behind them, trapping themselves inside the hot, smelly corridor with the giant Cerberus.

A harp sits in the corner, a remnant of Quirrell, though none of them know how to play it. The great, glowing eyes of the beast before them, its sharp yellowish teeth slick with saliva as big as their heads, are brought into sharp definition as a low, earthquake-like growling starts up around the corridor. The dog can't see them, but it can smell them. Quietly, in a nervous voice, Acacia takes a deep breath and starts singing... and the dogs eyelids begin to droop. She watches as the longer she sings, the more it slowly falls asleep.

As she's standing there singing, her two friends have gone over to the trapdoor. Blaise takes out his wand, lifts one of the dog's paws up, moves it, and drops it out of the way. Then they throw the trapdoor open and squint down into the depths below.

"I can't see anything," Daphne says.

"Daphne, get over here, take over for me," Acacia sings, agitated, breaking into her song.

"Why do _I _have to do it?" Daphne complains, but she walks over and starts singing in Acacia's place. Daphne's right - she's completely tone deaf and it's not a pleasant sound. But the dog makes no move to wake up.

Acacia walks over, kneels down, and looks into the dark depths below. "That was lovely," Blaise tells her, smirking.

"Oh, shut up," says Acacia.

Blaise winces and looks over in fond amusement at Daphne, who's currently singing very, very sharp. "God, she was right," he mutters. "That's awful."

Acacia has taken out her wand. She lets a ball of light ghost down the tunnel... lower... and lower... Soon, it's just a tiny pinprick. At last, it alights on a bed of plants - live, wriggling, vine-like plants.

"Is it... moving?" Blaise breathes. They look up at each other in dread. "I'm pretty sure this isn't covered in first year Herbology," says Blaise. "How much you want to bet that thing's there to kill us?"

Acacia thinks for a long moment. "I have an idea," she says at last. "My godmother told me, the night she got me from the ruins of my parents' house, she got me from the second floor and then put a floating charm on her_self _to help her float to the ground outside. We could try the same thing. If we float down the tunnel and then _over _the plant... It shouldn't hurt us. Theoretically."

"Theoretically. How comforting," says Blaise.

"Hey, do you have any better ideas?" Acacia asks.

And in the end, they agree to try it. Blaise takes over for Daphne so Acacia can explain their plan to Daphne. Then Acacia stands, and points her wand at herself, swishing and flicking, saying the correct words.

It's a very peculiar sensation. She feels all the weight leave her body, until she's light, airy, a dancing feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Well," she says, smiling, "this is actually rather nice." She moves carefully, pulling her wand arm which pulls the rest of her until she's floating directly over the tunnel opening. Then, nodding nervously to Daphne, she slowly lowers herself down the shoot... down... until she passes over the squirming, wriggling mass of green vines to the corridor beyond. She sets herself down in the stone corridor.

"Alright!" she calls at last. "Hurry up, we don't exactly have all day!"

Daphne and Blaise come through after her. She can hear Blaise singing until he's fairly far down the tunnel... Then, when he stops, the dog's impotent growling and barking can be heard above them.

"So much for not alerting the whole castle," Daphne mutters, and Acacia winces, but there's nothing they can do.

They stand, looking at the plant, for a moment afterward. "That's Devil's Snare," Blaise notes clinically.

"I take it it's deadly?" Daphne asks.

"Yes, Daphne," says Blaise. "That's why it's called 'Devil's Snare' and not 'Snare of Eternal Life'."

"But 'Snare of Eternal Life' just sounds so much _better. _It could be _deceptive_," says Daphne.

Blaise stares at them for a moment. "Why am I friends with you two?" Blaise asks himself this question often.

"Come on," says Acacia, looking onward. "Let's go."

They continue down the stone corridor together until they come upon a room full of multi-colored, winged - "... _Keys_," Acacia breathes, staring closely up at them. They flitter around, light and airy and bright, at first looking just like little humming birds. There must be hundreds of them flying around the room.

"Which must mean the door's locked," Blaise echoes. He and Daphne go up and try the door - no go. Not even the Alohomora charm works.

"How do we even know which one to use?" Daphne asks.

Acacia is still standing on the other side of the room, and has never taken her eyes off the keys. "I don't know how Quirrell and the Dark Lord figured it out," she says after a few seconds, "but they used _that _one." She points at a battered, blue-winged silver key. One of its wings is bent as if it's been stuffed roughly in a lock.

Blaise points at the brooms hovering off to the side of the room. "Well," he says sarcastically, "there you are. Quidditch away."

Acacia gets on a broom and takes off through the flock of keys, never taking her eyes off her prize. She follows it around the room for a while, darting and ducking around it, but the keys are fast - it always just manages to evade her reach.

At last, she flies up to the very top of the ceiling and then dives down for the correct key, which flies toward the floor away from her grasp... Acacia reaches forward, keeping one hand on the broom... She catches the struggling key, and slides smoothly back onto her broom, pulling it upward sharply and banking it.

"I'll have you know," she says at the end, "a lot of _time _went into that."

The next obstacles are no better. This is where Daphne and Blaise really come in. It takes all their combined intelligence to figure out the next two obstacles. One is a giant wizard's chess set with self playing white players - they have to become black pieces and play their way across the room; only with a checkmate will they be allowed through the doors beyond. Then they pass through a smelly room with an unconscious troll (Acacia is ready with Tom's spell, but the damn thing's pretty unconscious) and into a room that has a line of potions on a table. Fires spring up in the front and back doorways so no one can get out.

The poem on the table tells them that the seven bottles before them carry three of poison, two of wine, one will carry them forward through one fire, and one will carry them backward through the other. They're supposed to figure out which one is which using the logic puzzle in the poem, but Blaise just opens each bottle and figures out by scent and appearance which one is which.

"Fairly elementary," he says at last. "This potion makes us go that way." He points forward. "This potion makes us go _that _way." He points backward.

They look at the bottle that makes them go forward. There's only enough left for one swallow.

"So we all go backward!" says Daphne at last, holding up the bigger bottle, smiling. "Great!" She looks at Acacia's face, and her smile fades. "You're going forward, aren't you?" she asks, more serious, resigned.

"... I think so," says Acacia quietly.

"Acacia, you don't have to do this," says Blaise immediately. "No one would think any less of you if you didn't."

"I would think less of myself," says Acacia. She looks back at them, and smiles weakly. "Come on, Blaise, the man killed my parents. His entire way of life is bent against the continued existence of the woman who raised me.

"I'm glad you guys aren't allowed to go any further. This is personal."

* * *

When Acacia walks through the doorway of flames and into the next room, the icy potion still temporarily in her belly, she's terrified. Not of Voldemort. Not really. But of death - of death she is very afraid.

She looks forward, and sees Quirrell. Standing before the desire mirror.

There it is. Tall and gold, on two clawed feet. From this angle, she can only see Quirrell, Quirrell and his own reflection. But he is staring, entranced by what he sees unfolding before him.

Acacia has an idea of what to do. She'll have to make herself a reason to be scared, and then pretend to switch to the other side.

Suddenly, madly, she runs at Quirrell, who whirls around and fires off a spell, binding her in ropes and sending her crashing to the floor. He fires off another curse at her and she dodges, shrieking; it just misses and explodes a fragment of stone off by her face.

Quirrell is smiling, and a cold chuckling fills the room, cold and not coming from Quirrell. There he is - Tom's other self. The laughter emanates from within Quirrell's body.

"How pathetic," says Quirrell pleasantly. "And here I had mistaken you all year as somebody intelligent."

Acacia glares up at him. "You're going to kill me," she says, doing her best to look fearful.

"Oh, soon enough..." Quirrell turns back to the mirror. "As soon as this mirror shows me where the Stone is..."

Could the mirror do that? "Wait - it hasn't yet?" Acacia asks, surprised, before she can stop herself.

"I see myself presenting the Stone to my master - Why does that surprise you?" Quirrell suddenly asks, turning around, eyes narrowed.

Acacia ignores him. "You're going to kill me," she repeats, then adds hesitantly, "... No matter what I do?"

"I was planning on killing you once my master has arisen," says Quirrell.

"Wants to see it, does he?" Acacia guesses flatly.

That cold laughter, from Quirrell and yet not from Quirrell, fills the air again. "_Well, actually..." _says the voice, and Acacia recognizes it with a start - Tom's, "_I was hoping to do the honors myself..." _Then, over Quirrell's protests, he asks to be allowed to 'see' Acacia.

And that confuses her. Their connections aren't the same? He can't already see her in the first place?

"_I want to look her in the eye..." _says the voice of Voldemort - Acacia has to call him that in her head to differentiate the two - "... _see her face to face..."_

So Quirrell unwraps the turban from his head, and turns around. Acacia backs up instinctively in horror, the binds tightening to keep her in place. That face, bone white and snake-like, with slit red eyes - it's emerged from the back of Quirrell's head, leaving the flesh around it rotting.

_Fascinating, _she hears Tom think.

_Horrifying, _she returns to him firmly.

"_Acacia Potter... You have grown into a beautiful and talented witch..." _Voldemort's face is smiling coldly.

"Ah, er - what do I call you?" she asks, deciding to be polite.

The face is amused. "_My servants call me My Lord," _he says. Well. Wasn't that very grandiose.

"My Lord," she agrees, smiling, in a tone of false calm, "if I may so, you're... erm... not looking so well these days?" She eyes the rotting flesh with distaste.

The red slit eyes narrow. _"I have you to thank for that. You and your worthless parents!"_

"Right," says Acacia slowly. "About that." She looks away, uncomfortable. "See, the thing is, I had no control over what happened that night. And frankly, I can see which way the cards are falling... I'm a Slytherin, remember? I have survival instincts." She eyes him sideways; his face is now curious, his eyes assessing her in a narrow way. "I was wondering if... maybe... a little exchange could take place. Perhaps, if I show you some things about the mirror... you won't kill me. Or my friends," she adds, to make it sound more human and reasonable.

"_And how would you know anything about the mirror?" _Voldemort asks. But a delighted and cruel smile has filled his face.

"Dumbledore," Acacia lies. "Of course."

This just seems to amuse Voldemort further. She wonders for a moment if he sees through her, but then she hears him say, _"Being a benevolent Lord, I am of course willing to protect my servants..." _His voice hisses at the end.

Acacia tries not to feel just a tad violated. _It's all an act anyway, _she tells herself. _This is great. I'm stalling him. _ She's careful to look a little way away from him as she thinks this, just in case Tom isn't guarding her mind from intrusion.

Her act gives her what she wants. Quirrell snaps his fingers and the bonds are released. She stands, shaking, and walks past Voldemort, past Quirrell, and to the mirror, trying not to linger on that awful smell - the smell of rotting flesh.

"Okay," she says, still in that tone of false calm. This is good. He's not back yet and she's not dead. This is good. "This mirror shows people their heart's deepest desires. The fact that Quirrell can't see where the Stone is hidden is actually a good sign. It just means he's incredibly devoted to the idea of giving it to his Lord... ship."

That was what one called Lords, right? "His Lordship"? _Egomaniac._

_I heard that, _Tom says, annoyed.

"I am a faithful servant," says Quirrell eagerly. "I have been ever since I encountered the Dark Lord's spirit in that Albanian forest."

_Ugh. Just to clarify, I am not your faithful servant, _she tells Tom.

_He is a weak man, _Tom sighs dismissively. _A throwaway._

It is amazing, how he can just become bored of the creepy fanaticism in Quirrell's eyes like that.

"_So..." _says Voldemort impatiently. "_How do we move past it...?"_

Acacia turns and looks into the mirror. She wants to see if she can see where the Stone is hidden. Not so she can use it, or any other such thing. But so she can keep it away from Quirrell. If she can find the Stone, she can run away with it - the potion should still be circling through her system and should get her back through the fire.

She sees her reflection smile and wink at her. Then it reaches into her pocket, pulls out a blood red stone, and puts it back into her pocket. And then... Acacia feels something appear suddenly in her real pocket.

She has the Stone.

Tom immediately leaps to the forefront of her mind. _It's mine, _he hisses.

Acacia is more cautious. _It's certainly not Voldemort's._

She takes a deep breath. "I can't see where the Stone is either," she says. "So what we're going to have to do, is work on changing the reflection we see. Concentrate on wanting to find the Stone. If you change what you want most badly, theoretically, you should be able to see where the Stone is hidden. It's all a matter of willpower."

Then she backs up. "I'm going to try to see the room from a greater vantage point, see where it may have been hidden," she says decisively, and turns around, backing up... edging closer and closer to the fire door...

"_... GET HER!" _Voldemort suddenly screams in panic, realizing at the last second, and Acacia bolts for the fire door, grabbing the Stone up in her hand. She feels a curse hit her from behind, feels Tom move in front of her soul to cushion the blow... She feels a spurt of pain as he screams in her mind; she falls over and the Stone rolls out of her hand, shattering against the wall, shards of red going everywhere.

Voldemort screams, and Quirrell runs for the shards, and Acacia leaps up and runs forward,_ pushing_ Quirrell back with her magic. He grabs her up, grabbing her by the neck, and then screams in pain. When he removes his hands, they're burned raw, red and shiny.

_Your mother's protection, _she hears Tom say wonderingly. _It protects you from Voldemort's touch. Quirrell's magic isn't Voldemort's... but Quirrell's body is._

Acacia runs forward, Tom's magic enveloping her in protection, and when she grabs Quirrell he begins screaming. He struggles to throw her off, she clings on tight, putting her hands all over his face, and then the fire goes out and the door into the chamber bursts inward, to reveal Dumbledore and Snape on the other side.

Snape shoots off a curse, throwing Quirrell away; Quirrell rams into the far wall, but his face is already a horrible, disgusting mess of burning, oozing flesh. He slumps over onto the floor, and is dead.

Acacia goes to move, but Dumbledore grabs her tightly by the arm. A moment later, they see a sort of vapor leave Quirrell's body; as it floats up out of the castle walls and beyond, the torches on the stone walls flicker.

The three of them stand there, looking around. "Well," says Dumbledore, "that was quite creepy."


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine: Power Games _

Acacia finds out later that Dumbledore and Snape got identical messages saying they must go to the Ministry of Magic immediately. The messages must have had some sort of enchantment over them; only that could have made them leave Hogwarts at a time like this.

Acacia is quite conscious, but is taken to the hospital wing for a checkup anyway. The school Healer, Madam Pomfrey, a brisk and snappish woman, looks her over, scolding her for being so reckless - her magic has been laid quite low, and even Tom has retreated, silent and exhausted, to a corner of her mind.

Speaking of Tom... Madam Pomfrey looks worried during her magical examination, and takes Professor Dumbledore aside. When he comes back, it's just him and Acacia, and he sits down next to Acacia on her hospital bed.

"I have a confession to make," he admits, looking over at her with veiled eyes. "I've known for years why you survived that Halloween night. Your mother sacrificed herself trying to save you, and in that she marked you with a kind of ancient magical protection that will defend you from all contact with Voldemort. Hence, why his magic originally bounced off of you. That magic protected you again tonight.

"But what fascinates me is that there was another kind of magic, living inside your skin, that also defended you - at great personal risk, I might add - and it is also quite exhausted. Would you care to tell me about that, Acacia?" His tone is quiet, but Acacia looks down in shame.

And then, while Tom is mostly unconscious and can't know, she tells Dumbledore. The whole story. She tells him about the evolution of her friendship with Tom, their fight when she found out who he was, how he risked his life at no gain of his own to try to save her that day in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, how he's an orphan too, and how she'd had to explain to him what love was. How she'd found out that he wished for his parents, that he was a Slytherin, that he liked Hogwarts, that he'd once wanted to be a combat teacher, and that he was very fond of her.

"And, Professor, he wants me to help him get stronger, and I know that's what he wanted from the Stone, and I just don't know what to do. I feel so conflicted. A part of me wants to help him, because he's my friend and he loves me, and wants to forgive him. Another part of me wants to hate him and distrust him for all the terrible things he's done." Acacia looks up, upset. "Professor... what do I do?"

Dumbledore has sat back in thought, and for once she thinks she has managed to surprise him.

"... Never stop keeping a close eye on him, Acacia," says Dumbledore at last. "I was his Transfiguration professor while he was here at Hogwarts, and he needs close supervision, because he has a natural tendency toward darkness. With that said... If he really did try to sacrifice himself for you, and he allows you to call him by his real name... That is more than Tom Riddle has ever done for anyone before. I can guarantee it.

"Don't do anything to ruin his trust in you, Acacia. Help him, but never become blind to him. Show him things, like you showed him love. Try to show him morals, and the better side to people, particularly to Muggles and Muggleborns. I can't tell if it will work, but... For God's sake, don't lose him.

"He could very well prove to be the power that saves your life one day."

* * *

Dumbledore tells Acacia other things. He tells her they'd collected the Stone fragments to destroy them, at the behest of the Stone's creator, a 665-year-old man named Nicolas Flamel, who agreed to die so no one could try to drink the Elixir of Life again. Dumbledore tells her that Voldemort is not truly gone; he is still a spirit, out there somewhere.

He also tells her about the Stone and the mirror.

"Only the person who wanted to find the Stone," says Dumbledore, "find it, but not use it - would be able to get it. In other words, in order for the Mirror of Erised to have given the Stone to you, Acacia, you must have wanted to keep it without intending to give it to anyone. Even to yourself. Even, perhaps, to Tom Riddle.

"And for that, I commend you."

* * *

Snape visits Acacia while she's in the hospital wing.

"You were a complete idiot," he begins coldly. She looks down. Then he says, "... But I'd have done the same. You did admirably. You even managed to get through all of it without nearly killing yourself."

Acacia looks up and smiles. It's the closest he'll get to a compliment. In a small way, Severus Snape - of all people - smiles back.

Blaise and Daphne visit too. Daphne reaches forward and hugs her. "Rumors are flying all over the school," says Blaise dryly. "Everyone's talking about a puny Slytherin first year girl facing up to the Dark Lord and winning. Most of the Slytherins are either horrified by your stupidity or terrified of your power. Gemma's bragging about you everywhere."

Acacia smiles at that.

"There's more, though..." says Daphne uneasily. "People keep saying," and here, her face darkens, "that the only way a girl could have defeated You Know Who is if he had some sort of attachment to her. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"That's stupid," Acacia agrees, most pointedly _not _thinking of Tom.

* * *

She gets loads of cards and flowers from her fans while in the infirmary, and a story written about her in the Daily Prophet. (She declines all requests to be interviewed this time.)

Less pleasant is when Mary, her face thunderous, storms the school in a fury. She yells at Acacia for getting herself involved in something so stupid, hugs her fiercely and says paradoxically that she's proud of her, and then rumor has it she even storms Dumbledore's office and yells at him for a while. It becomes almost as legendary as Acacia's exploits.

Even the ever-strict Madam Pomfrey cannot keep Acacia long, because after her exhaustion wears off there is nothing much wrong with her. She's just putting her robes back on when something falls out of her pocket.

She stops, curious, and picks it up - her eyes widen.

It's a remaining shard of the blood red Philosopher's Stone.

_We can still use it, _Tom, who's recovered, tells her quickly in her mind. _I can return._

_Tom... It's not that I don't want that... It's just... _Acacia's uncomfortable.

_What? _Tom asks her sharply after a moment. _You're not reneging on your promise?_

_No! But... What will happen when you come back? Mary's a Muggleborn. Will you try to kill Mary? What about the safety of my world and my friends? I don't want the violence of another war to be on my head._

_You're trying to do "the right thing," _Tom realizes in distaste.

_Of course I am! _Acacia frowns.

Tom snorts. _The right thing is a myth, _he says pessimistically. _Morals are made up rules of conduct._

_But that doesn't mean they're not important. Society was built around those codes of conduct._

_There is strong and there is weak. That's all I see._

_So what about your saving me? Was that a sign of your weakness? And don't you dare try to say you thought you could get something out of it._

Tom bristles, but remains silent. She has to be careful, Acacia warns herself.

And then he makes the incredible promise: _... On my word, I will not kill anyone you don't want me to._

Acacia realizes that's a lot of power he's just placed in her hands. Tom sees honor as paramount. She sits back, stunned, for a moment.

Can she handle that kind of power? The Mirror thought she could. Can she?

And, because Dumbledore has advised her so, she feels no guilt when she says: _Alright. I'll help you. _

Then she adds: _But what if you gain a body and you can't touch me anymore?_

_... Your body doesn't block my contact with you. Just your contact with my other self. _Tom's tone is thoughtful. _I think it is because I am a part of you - to hurt you would irrevocably damage myself. _

_Listen to your mother's magic, Acacia. I mean you no harm._

Heady words, soft as silk. Acacia wants to believe them.

* * *

When she walks back into her common room, the entire room goes silent. Everyone looks around at her, staring. Draco's eyes are wide.

Acacia smiles. "I lived," she says simply, triumphantly.

Gemma steps up for her house - and hugs her. "You're incredible," she says simply in her ear, and Acacia realizes that people are not angry. She is getting nods of respect.

Her house is getting behind her as someone who is superior.

Even Pansy shows her more cautious respect afterward. Older students begin treating her deferentially, deferring decisions to her. Without realizing it, Acacia has made a power play, and the Slytherins - ever supportive of a powerful one of their own house - have responded.

* * *

It doesn't hurt that Slytherins are presented the house cup at the final feast. Acacia and her friends' exploits have earned them so many house points that Slytherin wins easily, the emerald hourglass in the Great Hall outstripping the others by a mile. The Great Hall is decked out in Slytherin colors and snake emblems at the final feast, and Acacia can't help cheering with the rest of her house.

One of her older house mates even nudges her and points at the hanging snake. "Look," he says, smirking, trying to get into her good graces, "it's your symbol."

Acacia laughs and nods.

Their final grades are also posted. Of course, Acacia did well - in fact, the only person who did better than her is a Gryffindor Muggleborn named Hermione Granger.

"Good job," says Acacia fairly to a surprised Hermione Granger. Then she lifts her chin, smirking. "But I'm beating you next time."

"Oh, it's not a competition!" says Hermione in alarm.

"Ha." Acacia punches her shoulder playfully on the way by. "Gryffindor." They were so cute, pretending it wasn't a competition and all.

Ron, Seamus, and Dean watch in amusement as Hermione doesn't seem to know what to do.

Then it's time for them to pack their trunks. Forms are given out reminding them not to use magic over the holidays. Acacia goes up to the Owlery and shuts Hedwig up in her cage again. The first years take the boats back across the lake to the trees, a pleasant summer mist settling over everything in the early morning. Acacia sits with Draco, Blaise, and Daphne.

They pull their things up to the platform, pack themselves into a compartment, and play games of Exploding Snap and eat snacks from the trolley on their way back. (Blaise insists wizard's chess has been ruined to him forever.) Other students filter back and forth through their compartment during the journey - of all houses and all ages.

"... Why didn't you invite me?" Draco asks Acacia after a while. "To come along with you that night?" They all know what he means. Blaise and Daphne fall silent.

"... I know your father's leanings, Draco," says Acacia. "And I know you share them. I didn't want you to have to make that decision."

Draco looks down, unsure of what to say.

Aside from this brief, tense moment, though, the trip back to London goes well. When they get close, they change into their Muggle clothes - Acacia into an ivory summer dress, a pumpkin colored sweater, and the yellow gold and opal necklace Daphne gave her for Christmas. Then the train pulls to a stop, and they swarm the platform en masse.

Acacia searches through the crowds - there is Mary, smiling. Acacia comes up to her and Mary rubs her shoulder, looking her over. "Are you alright?" she asks in concern.

Acacia rolls her eyes, but smiles. "I'm fine, Godmum," she says. "It's been..." she says with feel, "... an _interesting _year."

Acacia wonders if all her years will be as interesting during her time at Hogwarts.


	10. Book Two

_Chapter One: Warning_

It all starts with Hedwig.

The moment Acacia got home, she released Hedwig for the summer, leaving the open cage by the window so her owl could come and go whenever she pleased. But then something odd happens. Acacia stops getting letters.

She wouldn't have noticed it so much, except her friends had promised to write to her, really, and besides, Hedwig keeps coming back with ruffled feathers. Once with a bloody foot. It's almost like something, or someone, keeps attacking her.

Tom suggests she relate the problem to Mary, and suggest a solution... spells she'd read about, some excuse... Mary, more advanced with magic, puts the necessary protective spells around Hedwig, and from there Hedwig is fine and Acacia starts getting letters from her school friends regularly.

"Probably just some crazed fan," says Acacia in amusement, and Mary agrees, and they forget about it.

For Acacia's twelfth birthday, Mary and Acacia splurge and go outside their comfort zone a little. They borrow a friend's car, travel two towns over, and go to a Muggle drive-in - of all things. Tom would normally be contemptuous, as he doesn't have much use for Muggles. But one of the only things he will admit to is that the cinema is a wonderful invention, so much to her amusement, he watches as intently as they do.

_Popcorn? _she asks him at one point.

_You're being sarcastic, but I would actually love some. Unfortunately, there's the little problem of me not having a mouth._

Acacia giggles, causing Mary to glance at her in worry and confusion because it's actually a very serious scene.

Speaking of Tom, Acacia and he come to a bit of a road stop. They have a shard left over from the destroyed Philosopher's Stone, but have yet to figure out how it works. At first, they just try Acacia holding the stone and Tom wrapping his magic around it, but as far as they can tell this gets them nothing.

Acacia keeps the shard in her pocket, and occasionally takes it out and fiddles around with it in her spare time, moving it between her hands. Every idea she and Tom have had for how it might work have come up dry. They've owl-ordered several books on the subject, but all the books focus on possibilities concerning how a Philosopher's Stone might be made. The secret of how to work the Stone once created died with Flamel, who doesn't seem to have written a book.

Still, Acacia sometimes takes the shard out and moves it between her fingers, just for something to do. They'll get it eventually - she knows they will. She once briefly considered asking Dumbledore, but has put the idea on the back burner for two reasons. First, Tom doesn't know Dumbledore knows, and probably wouldn't want his help if he had. Second, though Dumbledore did encourage her to support Tom, she has an idea this might be in Dumbledore's estimation a little overboard.

So she moves it between her hands, watching the blood red reflect the light. That's what's she's doing in her bedroom late one night when she hears the sudden crack of someone using Apparition appearing right behind her.

* * *

Acacia stuffs the shard in her pocket and whirls around.

Standing there, looking innocent enough, is a house elf. Tiny and frail-looking, with a large head, pointed bat-like ears, and bulging eyes. This particular house-elf is green, has green eyes, and is wearing a filthy pillowcase as clothing.

Elves were enslaved to wizard masters centuries ago and have been slaves to those same masters ever since; house elves are typically found in very old and very wealthy homes. They use their magic to cook and clean. How they are treated varies from master to master. They are not allowed to refer to themselves as "I", to have clothes, to be paid for their work, or to have a birthday. (A house elf, in fact, is considered freed from their binding magical contract when they _are _given clothes by their master - for any normal house elf, to be given clothes is a matter of deepest shame.) Most house elves take a certain honor and pride in their work, which when ideal is silent and goes unnoticed. House elves, for example, prepare the food for the Great Hall at Hogwarts, clean inside the house quarters, and do the students' laundry - but Acacia has never seen a house elf at Hogwarts. They have been shut out of the history books and are rarely mentioned in any official setting.

Mary has told Acacia all this because, being from a Muggle family, the apparently common practice of house elves always startled her.

"No matter how bad you feel for them, try not to be too nice to them," Mary told her once. "They get agitated and even upset when they are treated on an equal footing to wizards and witches. They're very emotional creatures and they lose their composure easily."

Acacia supposes this house elf came to her house at the order of their master.

"Who are you?" Acacia demands, looking at the house elf. "Who are you? Why are you here? Who sent you?"

The house elf had been peering curiously around her bedroom - almost ashamedly; he has clearly been taught not to stare around people's homes, but in this particular famous case he can't help himself.

Acacia is suddenly aware of how messy her room is. Things litter the floor and hang off various edges; the window is open and the blankets of her bed are a mess. The bedspread is the green and silver colors of Slytherin house, as are the various snake posters and tapestries hanging around her room. The room is dark, dimly lit only by cold, black, blue-flame candles set around the room.

Her cauldron is set out in the middle of the room, and it contains her scales, her telescope, and her black uniform robes in a messy pile. Her school books, long black ebony wand, and astronomy models are spread out across her desk in a state of disarray - "organized chaos." Her white feather quills are in their ink bottles. Hanging from the edge of her desk chair, making half the chair disappear, is her invisibility cloak. Hedwig's cage is open by the window, Hedwig currently out and owl droppings in the bottom. On one wall is hung a small oval mirror, edged in silver, which gives her fashion advice when she steps in front of it.

There's a long shelf over her bed that's filled with her extracurricular books. Hung around the room are ink drawings she's made, charmed to move around. Her record player and her favorite records are set against the wall on the floor in one corner. (The record player doubles as a radio.) Hung on the wall above her records are a series of high end racing brooms, each with its own little hooks. Her wardrobe is in a constant state of explosion, filled with robes, cloaks, dresses, sweaters, scarves, jewelry pieces, purses, clutches, hair dressings, and a seemingly endless supply of shoes. Opened up across her bed is a mahogany and gold photo album, moving wizarding photographs of her with her friends, godmother, and teachers spread out around the album, half put away.

"Answer my questions," Acacia tells the house elf.

The house elf looks around, bows, and says in a high, squeaky voice, "Dobby at your service, miss, Dobby the house elf. Dobby was not sent by anyone, miss. Dobby came on his own, to tell the famous Miss Acacia Potter about something he has discovered."

Acacia stands. "Stay here," she commands immediately. "I'll go get my godmother."

Dobby seems alarmed. "No, no, Miss Acacia Potter - no one else must know!"

Acacia is puzzled. "My guardian should probably know the servant of an ancient house wants to talk to me. Don't be ridiculous. I'll just go get her and bring her in here."

"Dobby will do magic!" says Dobby desperately, threatening. "Dobby will do magic in Miss Acacia's house if he has to, and then Miss Acacia will be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic!"

Acacia rolls her eyes and goes to get her godmother. "Mary?" she says, ducking into the living room, where her godmother is sitting curled up in a chair doing a crossword puzzle. "A house elf just appeared in my bedroom. For some reason, he doesn't want you to know."

Acacia hears a sudden crash. "If that bloody little house elf broke something in there, I'll wring his neck," she growls, and stomps flatfooted back to her room with an alarmed Mary hurrying behind her.

They come back to find Acacia's shelf of extracurricular books have been knocked clean off onto the floor using magic. Dobby is backing up, clearly fearful, on edge.

"He's trying to get me in trouble with the Ministry," Acacia explains in exasperation.

"But what will that do?" Mary asks, puzzled. "This is registered as a magical residence. Magic happens in here all the time, and usually it's from me. And Acacia's wand didn't perform any magic. The Ministry will have no reason to be suspicious that Acacia broke the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry."

Dobby curls in on himself, hunched over. "... Please don't be angry with Dobby," he says pitifully. "Dobby is only trying to help Miss Acacia Potter."

Despite herself, Acacia feels herself soften.

_You're feeling sympathy for a troublesome house elf? _Tom asks her skeptically in the privacy of their own mind.

_How can you not feel sympathy for him? He just looks so sad and pathetic standing there, _she responds back.

"What are you trying to help me with, Dobby?" Acacia asks him upfront.

"Dobby has come to warn Miss Acacia Potter that someone is plotting to make terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," says Dobby fearfully, looking up at her with big eyes.

This is about the last thing that makes sense. They ask Dobby what kinds of things he's talking about and who's plotting them, but Dobby just chokes off when he tries to speak and then suddenly starts slamming his head viciously against the wall. His master clearly commanded him to start injuring himself whenever he tried to speak of what he heard within his house.

"Dobby! Dobby, stop! Alright, you don't have to say anything!" says Acacia, alarmed, grabbing his arm. Mary has paled, a hand over her mouth.

Dobby stops, slightly cross eyed, and sits down suddenly on the floor.

"So... you heard this in your master's house... and you can't tell me anything about it? Shake or nod."

Dobby nods his head.

"Why are you warning me?" Acacia asks. "Why not anyone else?"

"Miss Acacia Potter has fended off the Dark magic. The Dark magicians are cruel to house elves. Miss Acacia stands up for what is right. Miss Acacia stands up for house elves." Dobby looks up at her adoringly. "Miss Acacia Potter must not die."

"That's ridiculous," says Acacia firmly. "I just stand for peace, that's all."

Dobby's admiring expression doesn't change. "Miss Acacia is humble and moral," he says, smiling up at her earnestly.

"Well, that's the first time I've ever been called humble," Acacia mutters. "First time for everything. Alright, let's get to some more yes or no questions about this threat.

"Is it targeting Hogwarts specifically?"

Nod.

"From the inside?"

Nod.

"Will the attacker be using Dark magic?"

Nod.

"Is it the Dark Lord?"

A pause. Dobby doesn't seem to know whether to nod or to shake his head.

"Alright. So it is the Dark Lord but it's not really the Dark Lord?"

Nod.

"Whatever that means," Acacia mutters. "Will he be trying to steal something?"

Shake of the head.

"Will he be trying to regain power?"

Nod.

"Will he be possessing someone?"

Nod.

"Will it be a teacher?"

Shake of the head.

"It'll be a _student_?" Acacia asks disbelievingly.

Dobby nods sadly.

Acacia needs to make sure this person's not her. "Will he be coming after me?"

Dobby shrugs, then nods.

"You think so, but you don't know for sure?"

Nod.

"And an adult wizard's plotting this? Someone from an old Pureblood family?"

Nod.

It's a horrible question, but... "Will their child be the one possessed?"

Dobby shakes his head quickly.

"Will I be the one possessed?"

Dobby pauses, then shakes his head.

"Right." Acacia stands and nods. "I don't know if this is some stupid joke or prank -"

"It's not -!" Dobby begins quickly.

"But I'll write to headmaster Dumbledore and let him know, just in case," Acacia finishes smoothly. "And I'll be on the lookout myself when I go back to Hogwarts."

"No, no! Miss Acacia must not go back to Hogwarts! She is is too great to lose!" Dobby stands quickly, anxious.

"I appreciate the compliment, Dobby. But I think I can handle it." Acacia is firm.

"Miss Acacia is brave and strong," Dobby moans in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "But she has faced too much already..."

"Acacia, Dobby might be right, I'm not sure if I like this," Mary begins uncertainly, speaking for the first time. Dobby nods so fast in agreement that his head looks like it's about to bob off.

"Godmum, we don't even know if it's really happening. Besides, what am I going to do, stop going to school whenever anything bad happens?" Acacia asks rhetorically. "He'll just come after me anyway, if it's really him."

"At least one part's true," says Mary at last, ruefully. "It could all just be a silly joke."

Mary looks torn, but Dobby still isn't finished. "I can stop Miss Acacia's letters!" he says suddenly.

Acacia turns slowly around with narrowed eyes, suddenly dangerous. "... _You _tried to sabotage my owl? _My _owl?"

"Dobby thought... if Miss Acacia thought she had no friends at Hogwarts... Miss Acacia might not want to go back to school." Dobby hangs his head, hands behind his back.

"You little -!"

"Miss can hit Dobby if she wishes. Dobby is used to abuse, Miss," says Dobby sadly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm not going to -" Acacia begins in exasperation.

Dobby looks up hopefully as Mary warns her, "Acacia. Language."

Acacia sighs and puts a hand over her face. "So, let me get this straight. The only way to get you to stop bothering me is for me to say I won't go back to Hogwarts?"

Dobby nods solemnly.

Acacia gives a humorless laugh. "Fine," she says, throwing her hands up into the air. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts." It's a lie, of course, but who cares?

Dobby looks suspicious, but reluctant to admit it. "... Really?" he asks at last.

"Yup! You've convinced me!" Acacia gives a big, sarcastic smile.

Dobby backs up slowly, still watching her through narrowed eyes. "Dobby will be watching," he says. "Just to make sure." And with a crack, he disappears.

Acacia turns immediately to Mary, intent. "I'm writing to Dumbledore," she says. "And I'm going back to school."

_What do you think? _she asks Tom, as she goes to her desk to begin her letter.

_I think it could be nothing. But from what he was describing, it sounds like someone is going to possess a student with a Horcrux. A student hopefully of weaker mind than you. I'll have you know, if he comes back before me, I'll be deeply angry._

_Right. Because that's the most important thing. _Acacia rolls her eyes.

She sits down at her desk, and begins a letter to send off with a magically protected Hedwig when her owl comes back.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Something rather odd happened to me this evening. _

_A house elf appeared in my bedroom, and told me he'd come to warn me that something terrible will happen at Hogwarts this year. He couldn't seem to say much - it was like he'd been sworn to secrecy - but from what he could tell me, it sounds like someone from an old Pureblood family is going to possess a student unrelated to him/her-self with a Horcrux of Voldemort's. The Horcrux is going to attack Hogwarts from the inside, is going to try to come back, and may come after me._

_This could all be some silly practical joke, but the nature of the accusation is serious enough that I thought I'd warn you. I couldn't get anything else out of the house elf. I think getting the truth out of him might have killed him, through his magical contract. He disappeared off to I know not where._

_Sorry to alarm you on what should be a happy holiday,_

_Acacia_

* * *

She gets a letter back two days later.

_Acacia -_

_Thank you. I will keep an eye out._

_Dumbledore_


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Two: Discomfort_

Acacia gets her Hogwarts letter a little while later. She makes a list of things she'll need for second year. There are really only three things on it:

_New potions ingredients_

_New parchment and ink_

_Gilderoy Lockhart's complete essential works_

Gilderoy Lockhart is a wizard who has written several autobiographical books and is famous for being brilliant at all kinds of defensive magic. He's always getting into some new pinch involving a banshee or a vampire; he comes out on top, and then he writes a book about it. You have to hand it to him, he knows how to sell himself; he's supposed to be filthy rich. Mary loves him. The most Acacia will admit to is that he's very handsome, and she finds the way witches shriek over him to be hilarious.

Their new Defense teacher must be a fan.

Acacia also gets another letter around this point in her summer. It's carried in on Draco Malfoy's eagle owl, but when she opens up the note it's not in Draco's handwriting. In fact, the note is on monogrammed parchment.

_Miss Acacia Potter_

_is formally invited to_

_Dinner at the Malfoy Manor_

The date it gives is tomorrow night.

"Oh, Acacia, I don't know," says Mary immediately. "You've heard of Lucius Malfoy. I don't like this..."

That's when Acacia notices a second letter underneath the first. This one _is _from Draco.

_My parents have heard that you shut me out of that complete debacle at the end of last year, and they're frantic that someone of "your standing and importance" doesn't trust me because of my family. They basically want to butter you up. You'd sleep in a spare room at our house after the dinner and then come to the Alleys with us to buy school supplies the next day._

_Please say yes or I'll hear about it for ages._

_Draco_

"Well," says Acacia, eyebrows risen in surprise, "I guess I'm having dinner with the Malfoys."

* * *

Acacia has a Seer's dream the night before her dinner: she's walking barefoot into a pit of snakes. Doesn't take a genius to figure that dream out.

Acacia isn't sure how nice to dress for the trip to the Mafloys', but she figures, she's going to a formal dinner at a manor with filthy rich political people. She should probably dress well. She knows from Draco that they're all Slytherins, so she plays that up a little bit, dressing in shimmering, fairy-like forest-green dress robes and putting her red hair up in a delicate bun behind her head. She wears dangling wood-cut earrings. Her wand goes, hidden, in a pocket of her robes.

_Did the Malfoys really used to work for you? _she asks Tom at one point, nervous, before the dinner.

_Oh, yes. They were quite good at making life miserable for Muggles. _Tom just says it so casually. _But don't worry, _he adds at her emotion. _I doubt they're inviting you over to poison you. Your godmother would immediately figure it out; it's too obvious. No, this seems like just the sort of thing the Malfoys would do. Ally themselves with the strongest witch around._

Acacia, oddly, does not feel better after this conversation.

At the appointed time, Acacia takes the Floo to Malfoy Manor. She stumbles out at a magnificent white marble fireplace. A crystal chandelier hangs above her. She looks out the window beside her. It's paned in diamond. Out beyond it is a magnificent garden, filled with white peacocks and decorated with a fountain; beyond it all, monogrammed wrought iron gates frame the grounds. She looks forward; before her is an ancient corridor, carpeted sumptuously and lined with moving portraits of ancient Malfoys. A heavy wood door stands across from her.

"Miss Potter," says a very familiar voice, and Acacia looks around in surprise to find - _Dobby. _

Dobby the house elf is bowing to her; he puts a finger to his lips when he sees her surprise. His eyes are begging.

"It's him, isn't it?" she whispers. "Lucius Malfoy?"

Dobby simply nods.

Now on high alert, Acacia moves sharply behind Dobby, out of the drawing room, down the hall, and into a huge dining room with a long and ornate dining room table in its center. Despite all the grandeur, the three family members currently at the table are seated very far away from each other, and the atmosphere is silent and cold. Acacia prefers her tiny kitchen in the cottage with Mary.

The two adult Malfoys stand: both are pale and sharp featured, with white blond hair. Narcissa Malfoy is beautiful and cold; Lucius Malfoy looks eerily like his son.

"Acacia Potter..." says Lucius softly, smiling in a snake-like sort of way. Acacia feels uncertain, like she's being sized up. Determined not to be afraid of this, she lifts her chin and looks them boldly in the eye, almost glaring.

She can feel Tom smile inside her mind, and indeed Lucius Malfoy seems to find something he likes there too, because he waves a hand and tells her, "Please be seated."

The house elves (thin, beaten creatures in filthy pillowcases) bring out the food - all of it high end, complex, and fancy, arranged in aesthetically pleasing arrangements, for example a roast goose surrounded by steamed vegetables - and everyone settles down to eating. There are so many utensils before Acacia that it's quite incredible. She'd had to make an emergency Floo call to Blaise and Daphne yesterday and ask them for help when it came to wizarding table etiquette, which neither she nor Mary knew or had ever cared to learn. They'd sighed long sufferingly, but come over and patiently explained to her what each fork did and for what occasion.

"Always sit up straight," they'd advised her as well. "And never look the way you're feeling."

She thanks her friends to the high Heavens in her head.

After a few minutes of eating, Narcissa and Lucius begin talking. "That's a beautiful dress, Acacia," says Narcissa reservedly to start off with.

"Thank you," says Acacia shyly, uncertain. "I bought it at Madam Malkins."

"That's where we met," Draco adds in.

But for the most part, his parents ignore him. They spend extensive time asking Acacia about her classes, hobbies, friends, and Quidditch. Lucius makes some approving noises when she mentions her grades, which are excellent, and her friends Blaise and Daphne, both of whom are considered Purebloods.

Then Acacia witnesses a complete about-face from Lucius.

"Draco!" he says sharply, suddenly sitting up straighter. "Elbow off the table, and don't slouch!"

Draco sits up straighter, taking his elbow off the table. "This is boring," he mutters rebelliously.

His father opens his mouth in annoyance to retort, but he and Narcissa exchange a long look. Then Narcissa turns to her son and says, "These are necessary codes of social conduct. They aren't boring."

Draco is still frowning down at the table. (Later, Acacia will pass by the sitting room on her way to get a late-night snack from Dobby in the vast kitchens, and she'll hear Lucius Malfoy speaking to Narcissa in the drawing room. "I wish I had a son who was more politically adept," says Lucius, and Narcissa scolds him and asks him to patient.)

The conversation by the end of dinner has come around to the end of her last school year.

"I was amazed," Lucius says softly, raising an eyebrow, "that any first year could fend off such a legendary wizard."

Acacia smiles uncomfortably. "Oh, I only stalled him," she says. "It wasn't so hard, really."

The entire affair is actually quite uncomfortable.

Later, Dobby leads Acacia up a grand oak staircase and down another carpeted hall to her spare bedroom. It has diamond paned windows and a magnificent fourposter bed with velvet blankets. Acacia slips into her nightgown and into bed, but she doesn't get much sleep. She lays awake, clutching her wand tightly in her hand underneath the blankets, fully aware that she is sleeping in the same house as two people who would in a second have her dead if the right powerful person demanded it.

* * *

The next day out shopping in the Alleys with Draco and his father is no more comfortable than the rest of it. The two of them take her down Knockturn Alley. It's even dodgier than Acacia had imagined it to be. It's a dark, narrow, cobblestone street full of dingy shop windows. Shrunken heads, miniature Acromantulas, and candles that give off poisonous fumes are just a few of the items on display. The atmosphere should seem cool, but there's something just a little too dirty and dark-intentioned about it.

_You like it here? _she asks Tom in surprise.

_You don't? _he asks in equal surprise.

_Well, the ambience leaves a little something to be desired, _she admits jokingly, staring around herself and then edging a little closer to Lucius Malfoy.

They enter a large, dark shop, Borgin and Burkes.

_I used to work here, convincing owners of Dark magical artifacts to part with their valuables, _says Tom informatively, his tone curious and pleasant.

_I find that deeply unsurprising, _says Acacia. _I bet you were very good at it._

_You say that like it's a bad thing._

The shop owner, an older man with limp, greasy hair named Mr Borgin, practically falls over himself to serve Mr Malfoy. Acacia overhears parts of their conversation. Mr Malfoy appears to be selling. "You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids - I have a few, ah, items at home that might embarrass me - as you see, certain poisons might make it appear -" (Acacia knows exactly where they're hidden, too: underneath the drawing room floor. Draco pointed it out to her while he was showing her around the manor after dinner last night. The Malfoys really are putting a great deal of faith in powerful people automatically being inclined to the Dark Arts. She'll save the information for if they ever try to threaten her.)

Meanwhile, she's observing the items on display. There's a whole shelf full of skulls. A nearby glass case holds a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Masks, human bones, human fingernails, and rusty spiked instruments hang from the walls. Hangman's rope and a cursed opal necklace complete the picture.

How has this whole shop not been confiscated yet? Most of it has to be illegal.

_Does that bother you? _she hears Tom ask suddenly.

_No. I just don't want to know where they got those real human bones from, that's all._

She can feel Tom sneer, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes.

_Oh, bugger off, _she snaps. She feels a flare of annoyance from Tom.

Acacia turns to Draco. "You want to go to one of the other Alleys?" she asks.

"Why?" Draco asks in genuine puzzlement. "Father was going to come with us."

"This is... an interesting shop," says Acacia.

"I know, it's cool, isn't it?" says Draco brightly.

"Fascinating." She pastes a faux smile on her face. "And I think I've seen all the interesting I can handle over the past couple of days with your family. I'm heading out of here. Want to come with?"

Draco frowns, but turns to his father. "We're going to go off and shop," he says.

"I'll buy you the new racing broom and meet you at Flourish and Blotts," Lucius responds.

* * *

Tom is still annoyed with her - he probably considers her... _caution_... to be weakness - but Acacia tries her best to ignore this as she shops with Draco. Away from his father, anyone he's been taught to see as inferior, and any Dark magical artifacts, Draco can actually be a rather pleasant person. He has a great sense of humor, and they talk and laugh, pointing things out to each other, as they walk together down the other streets, past fantastical magical creatures, potions ingredients, and globes of the moon.

They buy new potions ingredients and parchment and ink while they're out. Then, soon enough, they make their way to Flourish and Blotts. There's a long line of witches outside, standing in line for Gilderoy Lockhart, who's at a signing table within the shop, signing copies of his latest autobiography _Magical Me. _

Draco and Acacia slip in through the crowds, grab their textbooks, and then stand from the floor above watching all the crowds filter by below. They have a good time making fun of the mess of witches oohing and aahing over Gilderoy Lockhart, who looks up roughly every five seconds and beams brightly for the flashing cameras.

"What do people even like about him?" Draco asks, mystified, after a while.

"Well, aside from the fact that he's a very powerful wizard?" Acacia asks rhetorically.

Draco rolls his eyes, a look of distaste on his face. "Aside from that," he says.

"He has nice eyes."

Draco stares at her in disbelief.

"What? He does. They're very... _blue,_" Acacia decides. "And he has a nice chin."

"_That's _why witches like him?" Draco is incredulous. "Because he has a nice _chin_?"

"Don't ask if you don't want to know the answer," says Acacia simply.

"So just because I don't have blue _eyes -_!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Acacia asks irritably.

Draco opens his mouth, changes his mind, looks away, and says bitterly, "Oh, never mind."

Acacia looks around, and brightens. "Oh, look, there's the Weasleys!" She points to the huge red-haired family, which includes Ron, down below. Then she hurries down the stairs to meet them.

"Great..." she hears Draco grumble behind her, but he follows along willingly enough.

"Hello, everyone!" Acacia smiles and waves. "Hello, Ron." She turns to Ron, who shrugs and says hi. "This is Draco Malfoy," she introduces her friend. "He's a prat, but he's alright enough."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Thank you for that ringing endorsement."

Acacia looks backward and winks. "You know I love you."

Draco scoffs, but turns very pink and tries hard not to smile as he looks away.

"So how's it going?" she asks Ron, turning back to him.

"Oh, you know. Playing Quidditch with my brothers, enjoying break. The usual," says Ron. Then the little red-haired girl next to him nudges him sharply. "Ow! Oh... This is my younger sister, Ginny. She's, er - she's kind of a fan. This will be her first year at Hogwarts."

Ginny steps forward, looking up at Acacia with the wide, adoring kind of eyes Acacia usually associates with Dobby. Acacia immediately feels like running. "Hello!" says Ginny. "I think you're _so _incredible!" she gushes, fangirling.

"Er - why?" Acacia asks before she can stop herself. Draco, Ron, and the other Weasleys are trying not to smile. "I mean, not that I'm not awesome -" Acacia recovers, holding herself up jokingly. "But how would you know that? You've never met me."

"But all the incredible things you've _done _-!" Ginny blushes, fists up before her face, eager.

"But for all you know, I could be a horrible person," says Acacia wisely. Ginny stares up at her in confusion. Acacia has the strangest desire to pat her on the head. "Always remember this. See that guy?" She points up at Gilderoy Lockhart. "He could be a total asshole. Never judge someone based on their fame."

Mrs Weasley, a plump middle-aged woman, blushes and looks away.

Just then, Mr Malfoy and a balding red-haired man in shabby robes who must be Mr Weasley struggle through the crowds to them at the exact same time.

"What's going on?" Mr Weasley asks, just as Mr Malfoy says, "Draco, what are you doing conversing with these people?" Mr Malfoy's nose has wrinkled as he looks over the Weasleys - Draco once called them "blood traitors", which has to mean they support Muggle rights.

"I wasn't, Father," says Draco immediately. "Acacia was."

Mr Malfoy looks over at Acacia with narrowed eyes. Acacia smiles sweetly, though inside she's uncertain. "Do you have a problem with the people I choose to greet, Mr Malfoy?"

Mr Malfoy looks vaguely disgusted, but says, "Not at all. If you choose to lower yourself and ruin your reputation by interacting with these people, I'm sure that's very charitable of you."

The Weasleys all flush red, but Acacia can't concentrate much on that because at the same moment Mr Weasley punches Mr Malfoy in the face.

What follows is a long scuffling match, as the two punch every inch of each other they can reach, rolling all over the floor. ("Arthur, stop, what will Acacia Potter and Gilderoy Lockhart say!" Mrs Weasley cries.) The two of them even knock over Ginny Weasley's new cauldron, throwing her textbooks everywhere. People all over the crowded shop shriek and start stepping backward. Acacia reaches her hands out, and forces the two apart with magic.

"_Enough!"_

Everything remains silent after a moment.

"I'm friends with both of your families, and I get that you both hate each other, but we're in the middle of a goddamn shop," she says darkly. "No one's fighting here, especially not over me."

She lets them go and sets them back down on the floor. Mr Malfoy straightens his collar, flushed, as Mr Weasley puts a hand through his hair and looks away sheepishly. Acacia realizes too late that the whole shop has gone silent. Everyone is staring at them.

Acacia goes over and picks up a shaken Ginny's books, handing them back to her. All of a sudden, a textbook is shoved in her face. Mr Malfoy is holding it out to them, his face guarded and annoyed.

Acacia hands Ginny her book back.

"It can't be... Acacia Potter, breaking up a fight at _my _book signing..." Acacia looks around to find Gilderoy Lockhart approaching her slowly in something like delight. He reaches out, yanks her to his side in an iron grip, puts an arm around her, and beams for the assembled crowd. "Not that I couldn't handle it myself, of course, but it looks like the lovely young Miss Potter has done it for me!"

The crowds laugh and cameras start going off. Some of them are for the Daily Prophet. Acacia smiles uncomfortably.

That's when Gilderoy Lockhart makes his announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, I do in fact have an announcement to make! When Miss Potter came today wanting to meet me, she had no idea she will in fact be seeing more of me very soon. Yes, that's right, I am going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!"

_Want to make bets on how long he'll last? _Tom asks her smugly in his mind.

_Oh, come on, it's Gilderoy Lockhart. Give him a little credit, _says Acacia.

_The position's cursed, Acacia. Unless he breaks the curse, he's not going to last longer than a year._

Acacia eyes the beaming man sideways. His sparkling white teeth are blinding, and his gold hair looks so stiff it could hold a quill. _But he certainly is very full of himself, isn't he? _she asks grudgingly. _He made us buy his entire essential works as our textbooks._

She can feel both the Malfoys and the Weasleys glaring at her.

* * *

The air is very stiff as Acacia follows the Malfoys back into the Leaky Cauldron. Mr Malfoy refuses to look at Acacia as he sweeps along before them. She can't tell if he's embarrassed or annoyed. Feeling rather rebellious, she decides at the moment that she doesn't particularly care.

They stop outside the Leaky Cauldron fireplace and Mr Malfoy turns around. "I assume you can find your way home from here?" he asks brusquely. Acacia nods.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr Malfoy," she says. "It's been very... enlightening."

Mr Malfoy gives a cold, stiff nod in reply.

Acacia turns apologetically to Draco. "See you at school," she says.

"See you at school," he returns. Then he glances to his father's turned back and rolls his eyes. She smiles.

They step into the green fire, and a few moments later they are gone.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Three: Homes and Deadlies_

Before Acacia's trip to Hogwarts this year, she has a strange Seer's dream, of blood red ink dripping down a wall. She awakes feeling a thrill of foreboding, and knows that despite Dobby's warning, she's going back to Hogwarts anyway.

On September first, Mary and Acacia grab some breakfast at the station and then walk toward platform nine and three quarters early. Acacia's trunk and Hedwig's cage hidden by a cloth are being wheeled on the trolley in front of her. She wheels her cart around, facing the barrier, and then strolls toward it and casually goes to _lean _through...

And stops. Her cart won't go through.

She looks at Mary and frowns, then goes to place a hand on the steel - it feels very solid. Mary tries pushing against the barrier next, but no luck. The gateway, for some reason, has sealed itself.

Mary and Acacia have no choice but to hang around by the barrier and wait for other wizards and witches in training to come along. Other families with children in tow come to the barrier, but they don't have any more luck in pushing through than Acacia and Mary did. Soon, there's a crowd of confused people with cats, owls, and toads milling around by the barrier.

"What are we going to do?"

"How are they going to get to Hogwarts?"

A murmur starts up.

At last, Dean Thomas - a Black Gryffindor boy - stands in front of everyone and says, "Everyone, I live in London! My house is just down the road and I've connected it up to the Floo network! We can call Hogwarts and tell them what's wrong!"

Excitement and relief breaks through the crowd, and then everyone heads en masse after Dean's form. Acacia rushes to walk up next to him.

"Do you have any guess about what's going on?" she asks.

"No. My family's Muggle," says Dean. "I was kind of hoping you did."

Dean's home is a tall redbrick townhouse. Everyone crowds inside the tiny front kitchen, Dean's surprised mother trying to make space for everyone. His little siblings run around underfoot, excited.

Dean calls up Professor McGonagall's office. A surprised Professor McGonagall's face appears in the fire. "Mr Thomas?" she asks, frowning. "What's wrong? Why are you not on the Express?"

"That's the thing, Professor," says Dean. "The gateway to platform nine and three quarters has sealed itself for some reason."

Acacia kneels down next to him. "It's me, Professor. At least a quarter of the school is gathered here. No one can get through; we can't get to Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall's lips tighten with worry. "I will notify Professor Dumbledore and see what can be done," she says. "This may require Ministry of Magic assistance. I will call you back when I have certainties." She breaks off the connection and her face disappears.

* * *

It takes several long, boring, crowded, and anxious hours before Professor McGonagall calls back. Everything goes quiet and everyone crowds around her face in the fire.

"Ministry of Magic cars will be coming by Mr Thomas's residence to pick you up," she says. "They will take you to Ministry of Magic headquarters in London, where you will take Portkeys to Hogsmeade Village. Carriages will be waiting there to take you up to Hogwarts. No one knows what's wrong. I apologize to everyone's parents for the inconvenience."

The cars soon arrive in the road outside Dean's house. They're old fashioned and dark green, manned by wizards in emerald green suits. Acacia packs inside one with some other students, and the cars take off in a line one by one. For the most part, they seem impressively ordinary, and if it weren't for the fact that six people can sit comfortably in one row and the cars manage to squeeze through absurdly small openings in the road, Acacia would think that they were not magical at all.

They stop outside a rather unassuming-looking place, a sleepy, shabby-looking street full of office buildings. In groups, students crowd inside a graffitied and broken down red telephone box. The emerald-suited wizard who led Acacia's group picks up the receiver, dials a certain number, and then responds when a small, silvery female automated voice asks what business they have at the Ministry of Magic.

"Ackelby Portsmith, Ministry Driver, leading Hogwarts students to the Department of Magical Transportation," he says. Some silver badges come shooting out of the coin slot at the bottom. Acacia takes up a badge and peers at it.

_Hogwarts Student, Department of Magical Transportation _it reads.

"This was a nightmare," Portsmith mutters. "No one was sure if this belonged to the Department of Magical Transportation or the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. And then we couldn't ask for your wands because you're not coming back through and you need them to go to school. Governmental security nightmare."

All of a sudden, the telephone box shudders. This worries Acacia slightly, because the telephone box does not seem that sturdy in the first place. She glances over at Portsmith, who seems to find this all completely routine. Then, amid shouts from surrounding students, the shuddering telephone box sinks slowly into the ground. Acacia watches feet of pavement pass in front of her face, before she is slowly enveloped in an open gold light.

Laid out before her is a long hall made of dark polished wood. The ceiling is blue, and many gilded fireplaces for Flooing in and out are set into one wall for employees. It's late in the day, and for the most part the hall is empty.

The telephone box shudders to a halt inside this hall. "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," says the silvery female voice, and the door flies open unceremoniously to eject its contents.

They walk out slowly, blinking against the suffusion of gold light. "Cool," admits Acacia, smirking reluctantly. The Ministry's entrance is actually pretty fantastic.

Before them is a fountain topped with a gold statue of a witch and wizard. Gold centaurs, goblins, and house elves are put on a tier below the witch and wizard, looking up at them adoringly in a way Acacia doesn't think they ever would in real life. But then - she remembers Dobby and shrugs. You never know. They walk past the sign attached to the fountain ("All Proceeds From The Fountain of Magical Brethren Will Be Given To St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries"), past all the coins littering the bottom of the fountain, and through some golden gates armed with tired and scruffy looking security witches and wizards.

The witches and wizards wave their front and back with long golden rods - Acacia feels something trail along her magic, testing it, and resists the urge to bristle - and then they continue on to a golden grille that fronts a kind of elevator. The elevator takes them down, past various departments, and into:

The silvery female voice appears again. "Level One: Department of Magical Transportation," it announces, and the grille slides aside to allow entry. A lone pale violet airplane - an inter-departmental memo - floats through the grille after them.

They walk down a hall, through a pair of heavy oak doors labeled "Portkey Office", past various empty cubicles, and into a private office whose walls are decorated with moving photographs and whose center is taken up by a very large desk. A wizard sits behind it.

"Wroughthwring," says Portsmith, nodding. "Here's your next group." He pushes the kids up to the forefront.

Wroughthwring, the head of Department, an exasperated-looking middle-aged dark-haired man with stubble and emerald green robes, takes something from behind his desk and hands it out to them. It's a broken hourglass. "Timed for one minute from now," he says. "We would take you into Hogwarts, but the wards around the school wouldn't allow it."

Everyone gathers around the tiny hourglass in a circle and touches a finger to its handle. A tense and silent minute passes... then, suddenly, Acacia feels the familiar jerk behind her navel. Her feet leave the ground, and she is flown along on a whirl of rainbow wind and color before her feet slam into the ground again.

She looks up, clutching her coat closer around her and keeping her suitcase and belongings tight at her side. They are in the darkened village of Hogsmeade.

From there, the black carriages pulled by invisible horses take her and her group up toward the castle... through the electric-feeling wards... through the gates manned by stone winged boars... up the hill... It is very late, and Acacia realizes she is exhausted. At last, they pull to a stop before the castle. The doors are open to let a flood of light out onto the lawn.

Acacia levitates her things and carries them through the doors and into Hogwarts with her. Little Hogwarts house elves in monogrammed tea towels are hurrying to and fro, helping students with their luggage. Acacia hands her owl to one of them.

"Take this up to the Owlery," she says.

The little female house elf nods.

Acacia levitates her things down the steps to the dungeon, where she stops in front of the blank stretch of wall. Gemma and a male prefect called Robert Slatby are waiting for her there. Both of them look very tired.

"The password's phoenix," says Gemma flatly, and the wall slides aside to allow entry. Acacia retreats to the dark, cool green and silver of her common room. A school of fish are swimming past one of the windows on the opposite side of the room. She puts her things down and sighs in relief.

She's tempted to just collapse on one of the black leather sofas, but she takes up her items anyway and carries them into her dorm room, the sign for which now reads _Second Years. _She tries to be quiet and not wake anyone up, but Pansy immediately sits up. "There you are." She rubs the sleep from her eyes.

And then the other three girls are sitting up and sliding aside their silk hangings as well.

"Where the hell were you?" Millie asks.

"The barrier to platform nine and three quarters suddenly stopped working. About a quarter of the school couldn't get through. The Ministry had to get involved." Acacia sighs irritably, setting her stuff down and then collapsing back on her soft bed.

"Shit," Millie says. Everyone's eyes have widened.

"Really?" Tracey asks eagerly.

"Yeah." Acacia nods and shrugs. "So I got to see the inside of the Ministry. Had to take a Portkey to get here."

"What do you mean?" asks Daphne in concern, so Acacia explains to them.

"You know, they only sent all those cars to pick you guys up and everything because you were there," says Pansy knowingly.

"What do you mean?" asks Acacia in confusion. The other girls look around at each other and smirk. "What do you mean?" she asks, more forcefully.

"Oh, Acacia," Daphne sighs. "Sometimes, even from my standpoint, you can be so oblivious."

Pansy lays back in bed and rolls over. "G'night."

* * *

Easily the most interesting classes over the first week back at school are Herbology and Defense.

In Herbology, they're set to work in Greenhouse Three. Greenhouse One, the only one that they had ever worked in before, houses the boring, safe, and mundane plants. The most interesting thing in there was a singing flower. But to suddenly be bumped up all the way to level three... Rumor has it there are plants in level three that could kill a person.

Greenhouse three has the usual worktables and constant surface and scent of fertilizer. But several heavily scented, giant, umbrella-shaped flowers hang from the ceiling, opening and closing ominously, and there is a dark red plant with long, spiked, tooth-like feelers called a Venomous Tentacula sneaking its tendrils along the greenhouse in one corner.

Draco comes to sit with her, Blaise, and Daphne at their work table. Ravenclaws and other Slytherins take seats around them. Draco leans forward and whispers, "You see that red thing in the corner Professor Sprout warned us about? I heard its forerunner killed Professor McGonagall's husband."

Acacia looks around at him with surprised eyes, and then scolds him for being so gossipy. Draco sits back, smirking.

Professor Sprout announces that today, they'll be repotting Mandrakes. Mandrakes feature in most antidote potions of any kind.

Mandrakes turn out to be tufty little purplish-green plants with screaming babies as their roots. Everyone has to wear earmuffs while they're working, because the cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it - even these brand new plants could knock a person out for several hours. So what they have to do is put on their dragon hide gloves, and then grab a mandrake, ripping it out of the pot by its plant-like hair. They then have to stuff the Mandrake back in another pot of soil until it's completely covered.

The work is dirty and sweaty and Acacia is quite glad to use the Herbology showers afterward.

Then she attends her other classes. There's goblin rebellions and wizard confederations in History, transforming beetles into buttons in Transfiguration, focusing on movement charms in Charms class, and work on mild poisons and antidotes in Potions. In Astronomy, they're studying the moon and its magical properties.

But what everyone is really wondering about is Defense class with Professor Lockhart.

When Acacia walks in, she sits close to the front. She doesn't particularly care what Tom and Draco say - Lockhart is supposed to be the best of the best. Arrogant and canned or not, he's supposed to be very good at what he does. She wants a front row seat for it.

Blaise and Daphne sit along either side of her.

"I want you to know," says Blaise, "that I protest this position deeply."

"Duly noted," says Acacia firmly. "If it sucks, we'll move to the back of the room next class."

Just then, Lockhart sweeps in, handsome and immaculate as usual. He gives one of his "dazzling white teeth" smiles and waits until everyone in the class has filtered in.

Lockhart starts out the class by naming every Defense award he has ever gotten. He throws in _Witch Weekly_'s Most Charming Smile Award for good measure. He ends the list with "but I don't talk about that." Really?

Still, Acacia's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt...until he gives them their first test. It's a pop quiz on their summer reading of his books, which at first makes everyone nervous because how are they supposed to remember everything that went on in the books? Then Acacia takes a look at the questions list:

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

There are fifty questions, and not one of them has to do with Defense. Acacia looks up to Blaise, and they share a glance of horror and dread.

When everyone's finished with the test, Lockhart then takes the time to announce the right answers - all fifty of them. He goes on and on about himself: his favorite color, his ideal birthday gift, his favorite aftershave, his favorite cologne, his favorite alcohol... Lockhart, Lockhart, Lockhart.

Acacia can just make out the Slytherins behind her, helpless with gales of silent laughter. She covers her mouth with a hand to hide her growing smile of disbelief.

Lockhart at last gets to the second part of the class: "the practical part." With great drama and flair, he reveals to them a cage of freshly caught Cornish pixies (tiny, electric blue flying creatures with pointed faces and high, shrill voices).

"Oh, no, guys," says Draco Malfoy with perfect sarcasm. "He's going to let loose pixies on us."

Lockhart, not noticing the sarcasm, looks triumphant. He moves to open the cage, and then Daphne raises her hand, "Sir..." she asks uncertainly. "Aren't you going to teach us how to defend ourselves against the pixies?"

Lockhart pauses. "Oh," he says stupidly. "Right." Then he tells them to flick their wands and say_ Peskipiksi Pesternomi, _which Acacia is almost certain is not a real spell. Spells are in Latin. She's pretty sure that's not Latin.

"Do we have to do that?" Theo asks, raising his hand.

"Certainly not, Mr Nott, you can defend yourself however you wish," says Lockhart, beaming.

A dark kind of glee slowly fills the Slytherin classroom. "You mean... we can do _anything_?" Draco Malfoy asks slowly, grinning, leaning forward viciously.

"Er - well, yes, of course." Lockhart looks puzzled.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, easily the biggest boys in their year, start smirking and cracking their knuckles. Acacia deeply pities any pixie that comes into their path. She smirks, getting ready for this, hand on her wand.

Lockhart releases the pixies, which immediately fan out across the classroom, prepared to knock over candles and upend wastepaper baskets in revenge for their continued entrapment. If only they hadn't come across the Slytherins.

Acacia, Daphne, and Tracey hit the pixies with freezing and paralysis spells, making them fall out of the sky. Blaise tosses out some vial of bizarre purple liquid that makes the pixies shrivel away into little husks. Pansy kicks the pixies with glee, Millie and Vince and Greg hit the pixies over the heads and start pulling their little wings off, and Theo and Draco make the pixies shriek with pain spells that Acacia is almost certain are illegal.

"Okay, stop, stop!" says Lockhart, now becoming distinctly nervous. "You don't need to go through all that; watch me!" He turns to a pixie and says, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

The spell does absolutely nothing. The pixie sticks out its tongue at Lockhart, blows a raspberry, and flies away for freedom out the window. Lockhart stares after it, wand still raised comically.

He flushes when the Slytherins start snickering.

Acacia never sits at the front of Lockhart's class again. She's pretty sure, now, that most of the stuff in his books is bullshit.

* * *

Acacia is confronted by a new problem during her first week back at Hogwarts: a bunch of first years have started up an Acacia Potter Fan Club.

The club seems to be headed by Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevey, two Gryffindor first years. It is populated mostly by first year students who like to stare up at Acacia adoringly in passing and ask her for autographs. Colin Creevey, head of the club, constantly has a camera around his neck and seems to enjoy taking Acacia's picture when she's not expecting it. Once, she throws a hex at him and he dodges, saying, "Wow, that was amazing!"

Then he takes a picture of the scorch mark the hex left on the stone floor.

Ginny disseminates pictures of Acacia for people to wear on their robes, and she is constantly asking for Acacia's interview. In this, she turns out to be even more stubborn than Rita Skeeter. Somehow, Acacia always manages to evade her.

Her house helps her out with this. She stations Slytherins to walk constantly around her in between classes like some sort of guard, and tells everyone in her house to keep a heads up and not send any little people with fan club badges in her direction.

Tom is not the only one who finds all this extremely funny.

"You could _use _these people!" Blaise says, and Acacia glares at him flatly. "No, think about it! They're little now, but someday they'll be adult wizards, _and then you'll have an army_!"

"Kid has a point," says Draco, and Theo nods in agreement.

Harder to ignore is Mr Pemberton, who eventually writes her to tell her that, yes, she _does _have to at least pretend to be appreciative of her new "fan club." He recommends she just do the interview and get it over with.

Acacia sighs and glares at the offending letter in the Owlery. "Great," she says sarcastically.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Four: New Beginnings_

Quidditch trials are always held in the second week of term. On the appointed day for Slytherin, Acacia takes up her Nimbus Two Thousand and heads out to the Quidditch pitch after classes. Slytherin only has one opening - their Seeker, Terrence Higgs, graduated last year. Luckily, Seeker is the position Acacia feels she's best suited for.

She gets to the stands and finds the Slytherin team in their trademark green robes spread out across the field. Marcus Flint, their Captain, is out in front. Flint is gigantic. All the team members are, actually - big, hulking men.

There is only one other person applying for the position of Seeker, and they're already on the field. They're also small and slight... Acacia sees a flash of white blond hair and pauses in dread... No, it can't be...

Draco Malfoy turns around and looks at her. They stare at each other in surprise for a moment across the distance, and then Draco smirks.

Acacia walks down onto the field and next to Draco. "So you're both applying for Seeker position?" Flint confirms, and they nod.

Draco leans closer to her. "No offense, Acacia," he says. "You're supposed to be pretty good, but I'm winning this. I have the better broom."

Acacia is clutching a Nimbus Two Thousand. Draco is clutching a Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

She looks up at him and lifts her chin. "We'll see," she says. She has an idea that if she's noticeably the better Seeker, she might still be able to win this. Seekers are supposed to keep themselves above the game; they're supposed to be observant; and especially if they're Slytherins, they're supposed to be resourceful at getting to the Snitch first - sometimes that means simply having speed, which Acacia does, but other times that means playing dirty.

"Alright," says Flint, "what we're doing is pretty basic. We're going to - What is that?" They hear a strange clicking sound coming from the stands. The Slytherins turn around...

And Acacia groans. "How did they even find me?" she asks.

Her fan club is sitting in the stands, cheering and taking pictures.

"I'm not having this," says Flint, narrowing his eyes. "They could give information to one of the other teams. Carson, Jintsley - take them out."

Carson and Jintsley, hulking fifth year Beaters, run up the stands toward the fan club shouting and throwing curses. The fan club shrieks and runs away.

"Right," says Flint, looking back at the hopeful Seekers, "now, first, I want you both to fly around the pitch once, and make loops through the goal posts as you go. This is not a competition. I just want to make sure you're good basic flyers."

So Draco and Acacia go up into the air and make a circle. They weave through the goal posts and race each other up and down the field, laughing. Draco is grinning. It's actually kind of... fun?

Then the competitive part comes.

"Alright!" Flint calls. "Come back down!"

They fly down to make neat landings in front of him.

"That was good. Neither of you should be ruled out right away. You're both good flyers on good brooms. But that's not enough to make it onto the Slytherin team. Next, we're going to release the Snitch. I want you both to fly up above the pitch, looking around for the Snitch, like a Seeker. Whoever catches the Snitch first is on the team."

Draco and Acacia nod intently, mounting their brooms. The golden Snitch is released up into the air, and then disappears in a blur of speed. Draco and Acacia take their brooms up sharply to be above the pitch, banking in the air. Acacia starts looking around silently, searching, searching. She can do this. She knows she can.

"Hey, Potter, want to take bets? How long do you think it will be before I beat you?" Draco's tone is mocking. He's trying to distract her. But while he's doing that, _he's _distracted.

"Buzz off, Malfoy," Acacia snaps, pretending to be upset, flushing. Then, while he gleefully mocks her some more, she makes her jawline tight. But it's all an act. Meanwhile, her eyes are moving all over the pitch... searching, searching...

There it is! She sees a flash of gold and dives for it, whooshing past a surprised Malfoy. Her head start gives her the precious few seconds she needs to pull clear ahead... She can hear Malfoy coming up on her rear... Acacia reaches out, and kicks the front of his broom, which is so light to the touch that it spins away. She reaches her hand out, catches the Snitch, and pulls out of the dive with it clutched triumphantly in her fist.

Back on the ground, Flint says, smirking, "Well done, Potter. Guess that makes you our Seeker. First girl."

Acacia lands. "Which means there are only two ways this could end. Either I'm going to come out of this super traumatized or I'll gain six big brothers."

The other boys shudder. "Let's hope it's the second one," says Carson fervently. Acacia grins, teasing.

Then she feels a stare and looks around. Draco Malfoy is getting to his feet next to his broom, looking bitter. Acacia comes over to him and holds out a hand. "Good game," she says. "I promise I'll make Slytherin proud."

Draco glares at her heatedly, not taking the hand. They look each other in the eyes for a split second - and then Draco whirls around and stalks away.

Acacia frowns after him. "Hey, it was just a game..." she says slowly, lowering her hand.

Flint walks up to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Don't think too much about it," he says. "This was just Malfoy's way of proving he's worth all the money his father shells out for him. He'll get over it in a few days. You want me to be honest, I expected you to beat him anyway."

And so Acacia begins training with the Slytherin team. They even manage to get a special note from Professor Snape, who is fond of Acacia, which they carry with them so they can access the Quidditch pitch at any hour of the day or night.

"Thanks, Professor," says Acacia gratefully before she turns to leave his office.

He smirks reservedly. "Just make sure we win," he says. "The house cup last year was a good start..."

"But you'd like the Quidditch cup?" Acacia guesses.

Snape looks very snake-like. "Naturally."

* * *

Reluctantly, Acacia sits down across from an eager Colin and Ginny in an empty classroom. They're interviewing her for the "fan club." She wasn't about to reveal the Room of Requirement to them, so she suggested an empty classroom instead.

"Thanks for being here!" says Ginny.

Acacia clears her throat and smiles uncomfortably. "Glad to be here," she lies.

"Okay, so let's get right to it." Ginny does the talking; Colin just stares at her in throes of ecstasy. "What's your favorite color?"

Acacia blinks. Is that really relevant? "I don't know if I have one," she admits dryly. "It depends on what kind of mood I'm in and what goes with my complexion and my outfit. I tend to look best in warm, earthy colors, so I suppose I like those. And I have to like green and silver - being a Slytherin and all."

"So you're fashionable?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Did you make the Quidditch team?"

"Yes."

"What position?"

"Seeker."

"Wow," Colin breaks in. "That's _so _amazing."

"What's your favorite food?" Ginny asks.

"Fudge. Chocolate. I like chocolate tart," she says.

"What's your greatest ambition?"

"I'd like to survive school and be awesome," Acacia admits, shrugging cheerfully.

"What would your ideal birthday gift be?"

"Are you getting these questions from Lockhart's reading test?" Acacia asks curiously.

Ginny goes pink and changes the subject.

"You have made two amazing escapes from You Know Who, the Dark Lord Voldemort," says Ginny. "Care to tell us about them?"

"Well, the first time, I was under a kind of magical protection. The second time, I tricked him into thinking I was joining his side and then stalled him long enough for Dumbledore and Snape to get there."

"Brilliant!" says one.

"Wow..." says the other breathlessly.

Acacia is amused despite herself. "Er, yeah," she says unenthusiastically. "Wow."

* * *

Acacia bolts down her breakfast one morning beside Blaise and Daphne at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

"What's your hurry?" Blaise asks, puzzled.

"Quidditch practice," says Acacia. Draco is sitting down the table, glowering sullenly at his breakfast and not looking at them.

"As usual," sighs Blaise, "you're abandoning us."

Acacia downs the rest of her porridge and wraps her sausage in her toast. "Yup," she says. "You'll have to soldier on without me." She stands at the table. The other Quidditch team members are standing as well.

"I still don't get your fascination with that ridiculous sport," says Daphne.

"It's alright," says Acacia, "I forgive you." She laughs when Daphne flips her off. Then she follows her fellow team members out of the castle and toward the locker rooms.

* * *

When the Slytherins in their green robes walk out onto the field, they can see the Gryffindor team in red robes flying around in the air.

"I thought they'd be done by now?" Carson asks. "Weren't they supposed to have booked the field for five in the bloody morning? Which is mad, by the way."

"Probably just got started," Flint scoffs. "You know how chatty Captain Wood can get."

A Weasley twin points down at the Slytherins, and they can see Wood's face transform in rage. He hurtles down to the ground, stumbles stupidly getting off his broom, and charges toward them, burly and red-faced with anger.

"Flint!" Wood bellows. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Flint is, as usual, calm. "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood," he says, smirking.

Wood is nearly incoherent with rage. "But I booked the field!" he keeps shouting. It seems to be the only thing he knows how to say.

So Flint hands Wood the note from Professor Snape and introduces their new Seeker: Acacia. The six big boys move aside to reveal the one tiny girl in their ranks. Acacia smirks and gives a little wave. The Gryffindors gape at her.

What follows is a lot of dick measuring between the Gryffindor boys and the Slytherin boys. Acacia sighs, standing back, bored. "We get it, boys, you're all very tough," she drawls at last. "Since clearly neither of us is willing to move off the field, why don't we practice by playing against each other - no points involved?" She looks at the Gryffindor Seeker, a brown-haired boy who swallows, and she smirks. "I'm game if you all are."

"You're on!" a tall dark-skinned Gryffindor girl called Angelina Johnson says immediately, and that, as they say, is that.

One amusing thing about playing against the Gryffindors, Acacia finds, is that they seem to consider themselves above playing dirty. They appear to take some sort of sick pleasure in not being willing to fight back and then glaring indignantly when they're beaten. Acacia doesn't actually have to do much work. She hovers above the game, watching the Quaffle be passed back and forth. A few minutes in, she spots a glitter of gold near the ground, and dives toward it alongside the Gryffindor Seeker Harrison. Her broom is faster, and she gets there before him, catching the Snitch easily and pulling upward triumphantly.

That wasn't so bad. Maybe this Quidditch match thing won't be as scary as it appears.

* * *

Acacia is heading to the baths the night after her Quidditch training with the Gryffindors the first time she hears it. The atmosphere is quite creepy enough; it's late at night, the dark corridors only lit by torches that throw shadows across the stone walls. But then she hears a voice, a voice that seems to come from nowhere, soft and hissing:

"_Come... come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you... Let me kill you..."_

Acacia stops suddenly, cold, looking around. There's no one there.

"What the hell?" She listens closely, but the voice doesn't come again.

_Acacia! _says Tom suddenly. _Acacia, I recognize it!_

_What? How?_

_Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets? _

_It sounds familiar..._

_It will have been in your book of Hogwarts history. Hogwarts was created during a time of great wizarding persecution in Europe. Salazar Slytherin, a Parselmouth, disagreed with bringing Muggleborns to the school - he didn't feel it was safe. The other founders argued that -_

_That anyone with magic should be welcome at Hogwarts, _says Acacia. _Yeah, I remember..._

_Slytherin got into a huge fight with the other founders over it, and then left the school. Before he left, legend has it, he created a secret chamber at Hogwarts that none of the other founders knew about. One that had a monster inside. When Slytherin's heir came back to the school, they and only they could open the Chamber, and use the monster to purge the school of Muggleborn witches and wizards._

Tom continues: _I'm the descendant of Slytherin. That's why you can speak Parseltongue. When I was at Hogwarts, I opened the Chamber._

_You used the monster?!_

_Keep your hair on, I didn't purposefully kill anyone. _She can feel Tom mentally roll his eyes. _Inside the Chamber is a Basilisk, a massive snake. Its fangs are poisonous and looking directly into its eyes can kill a person. Looking indirectly at its eyes, say through a reflection, can cause petrification. I can control it, because I can speak Parseltongue._

_That's what that voice was - it was the voice of the Basilisk, moving through the walls._

_Don't you see? _he says. _That's what Lucius Malfoy wanted this part of me to do. Purge the school of Muggleborns. And somehow, he's succeeded at possessing a student with a part of me - a younger part, I would think..._

_That's why I could hear the voice in the walls... Because I speak snake... So it's going to attack someone? _she asks in panic.

_I don't know, _says Tom tersely. _Can you still hear it?_

Acacia listens. _No, _she admits.

She feels Tom come to a decision. _Acacia, let me take you over. We're going down to the Chamber of Secrets._

Acacia is suspicious. _How do I know you won't just help the snake?_

_I don't give a damn about Muggleborns. You know that. But surely you've realized: I don't want another part of me to come back before I do. And if we wait inside the Chamber, we can see whoever's been possessed._

_We can catch whoever wants to do this._

* * *

She can feel Tom take over her body, and it makes her distinctly uneasy.

He turns back around, and begins walking. He goes straight into... Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?

_Myrtle died in here, _says Tom. _I didn't realize she was in the bathroom. She walked out of a stall, looked straight into the snake's eyes, and dropped dead. I didn't mean to do it, _he adds as an afterthought.

Acacia is silent for a moment. _Sometimes, Tom, _she says at last, _you're a terrible person._

She feels Tom's contempt, but then pokes him and reminds him of what she said last year. _By all conventional standards, _he admits dryly at last, _yes, I'm a terrible person._

Silently, he goes up to one of the sinks. He leans over a tap... A tiny copper snake is engraved on one side. "_Open," _Tom hisses softly in Parseltongue, in Acacia's voice.

The tap glows white and begins to spin. Then the sink goes right down into a hole in the floor, leaving a large pipe hole exposed. (The snake must move through the castle using the plumbing.)

"What's going on -?" she hears Myrtle's voice start to say, Myrtle beginning to rise out of her toilet, but by that time Tom has already fitted himself inside the pipe and slid down it. He touches an engraving on the inside of the pipe and Acacia can hear the sink rise back up into its place behind them.

They slide down the slimy dark slide to land, cat-like, in a dark, wet stone tunnel. Tom takes out Acacia's wand and whispers the Lumos spell to light their way. They walk over a floor littered with small animal bones, down the tunnel, to end at a solid stone wall. Engraved on the wall are twin serpents with glowing emerald eyes.

"_Open," _Tom hisses again, and the wall cracks in half, the two halves sliding smoothly out of sight.

They enter a long, dark stone chamber, lit the same eerie green as the Slytherin common room. Towering stone pillars entwined with serpents support the ceiling. At the end of the chamber, a ceiling-high stone statue of an older wizard with a long beard who must be Salazar Slytherin stands.

Tom goes to hide behind one of the stone pillars, crouching there. Then they wait. They wait for a very long time.

At long last, Acacia hears with dread a deep, heavy slithering sound. Tom peers around the pillar. A gigantic serpent, thick as a tree trunk, a sharp green color, slithers past them slowly. As they wait with bated breath, the mouth of Slytherin opens and the snake slithers back inside, into its dark hole. The mouth closes.

They wait a few seconds longer... No human form follows it, no voice appears.

Tom and Acacia realize it at the same time: _The possessed person didn't follow the Basilisk into the Chamber of Secrets._

"Shit!" Tom hisses in Acacia's voice, and he scrambles up. They run back down the chamber, out of it, down the tunnel; Tom whips out Acacia's wand and has them float back up the shoot, touching the engraving, out onto the girl's bathroom floor.

No one's there. Whoever was is long gone.

* * *

Acacia, back in her own body, is walking quickly a few minutes later down toward Dumbledore's office. She is not afraid - she is now one of the only people at Hogwarts who has nothing to fear.

She stops before the gargoyle, spouts candy names till it lets her through, and rushes up the escalator two at a time to knock with the brass griffin knocker on the headmaster's office door.

"Come in," says Dumbledore's surprised voice. Acacia rushes through and he stares from where he was sitting at his desk with a book. "Acacia," he begins, "your bathrobe is covered in slime -"

"Sir," says Acacia in a firm, shaken voice, "you can't ask me how I know this, but I think the Chamber of Secrets will be opened again. There's a Basilisk inside, and it will be set on Muggleborn students."

Dumbledore's face goes blank. There is a long moment of silence. Dumbledore's and Acacia's eyes meet, and Acacia knows Dumbledore has realized that Tom told her. But Tom doesn't know Dumbledore knows. Dumbledore cannot even ask why Tom would reveal such a thing.

"Sir," says Acacia desperately, "what happened last time? The attacks stopped, right? After a girl was killed?"

"... They were threatening to close down the school," says Dumbledore softly. "Then a boy named Tom Riddle came in with the apparent culprit, one Rubeus Hagrid. I believe Tom was afraid of the school closing down. He would have had to go back to his Muggle orphanage. We waited, but no more attacks came after Rubeus Hagrid was expelled. I incurred much indignation by recommending Hagrid stay on as groundskeeper. You see, I never truly believed he was the culprit.

"Somehow, I do not feel we will have to worry about anyone being concerned over Hogwarts closing this time."

Tom is silent.

* * *

Dumbledore makes an announcement to the school over breakfast the next day.

"Please, if you have any friends who are not here, give them the news," he announces, voice rumbling, standing. "We believe a strange creature may be loose in the castle. It can kill through its stare. When one is alone, one is hereby advised to put a mirror around corners before going around those corners themselves. They may be Petrified, but they won't be killed, if they merely see the monster's reflection."

A great murmur goes up around the school. Acacia looks down carefully, face blank, from her place at the staff table.

_My other self will know, _Tom reminds her. _He will know another Parselmouth is in his midst. For all that is holy, do not speak snake around others._


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter Five: Tests_

October brings cold and rain. A sudden spate of colds hits Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. She bolsters students with a Pepperup Potion, which makes them feel very hot and steam suddenly at the ears. It's jarring, but it clears the sinuses and it works; Acacia has to take it once.

Between Quidditch practice on the good days and classes the rest of the time, between hanging out with her friends and spending time in her common room, Halloween comes very quickly for Acacia. She's just so busy she has no time to really pay attention even to the idea of the Chamber of Secrets. No attacks appear, and she wonders privately if the other part of Tom might have lost his nerve.

For the Halloween feast, no ghosts are present - they're all at some Gryffindor ghost's 500th Deathday Party. (The party takes place down in the dungeons, and on her way past to go to the feast Acacia espies countless black blue-flame candles and the distant image of hundreds of pearly white ghosts floating around together to the screeching, fingernails-on-chalkboard sound of thirty musical saws.)

But the feast is still sufficiently spooky anyway, even without the ghosts. Live bats and vast, magically engorged jack-o-lanterns decorate the Great Hall, the pumpkin pie is delicious, and a troupe of dancing skeletons even prances along the tables to music at the end. Draco laughs with her about something toward the end of the fast, marking the first time they've really talked since Quidditch tryouts, and Acacia feels very happy and fortunate indeed.

The whole school leaves the hall at the end of the feast and walks up the stairs, around a corner, down a corridor. And then there's a road block. Everyone in front suddenly stops and there are a few screams. Acacia feels cold dread fill her stomach. She exchanges glances with her friends and they push their way to the forefront.

Acacia stops. Mrs Norris, Filch the caretaker's cat, is hanging by her tail from a torch bracket. She is dead. Daubed on the wall above her in crimson paint are the words, _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

Well. He certainly has a taste for the dramatic, doesn't he?

Surprised glee fills Draco's face, and Pansy's. They move to say something and Acacia slaps them over the backs of their heads. They turn to glare at her and she glares back.

"Where's Filch?" says Gemma suddenly. "Someone should notify Filch."

"Why would the heir attack Filch?" Acacia murmurs.

"Haven't you heard the rumors, Acacia?" says Daphne softly, looking worried. "Filch is a Squib. A Muggle child born to magical parents. By all Pureblood definitions, he's a hopeless mistake." Blaise's expression is grim.

Filch pushes through the crowd at that moment. He is not an attractive man; he is scrawny and thin-haired with bulging eyes and a bulbous nose. He is known for being unfriendly, grouchy, and resentful of students. But Acacia cannot help feeling uncomfortable and sorry for him as he falls back, clutching at his face and shrieking, "My cat! My cat!" Filch begins to cry noisily.

Just then, Dumbledore sweeps forward to the front of the crowd, followed by several teachers. He removes the limp cat from the bracket and commands the students to leave at once; meanwhile, the teachers will follow him into Professor Lockhart's office with Filch's cat.

The crowds begin to disperse, still talking wonderingly about what happened. But as Acacia turns to leave, she feels Snape grab her arm and pull her aside.

"Keep the rune scroll always on your person alongside your mirror," he whispers, putting his face close to Acacia's. "That way, if you hear of an attack, you can notify me immediately. Dumbledore's orders." He releases her and stands.

Acacia nods. "Yes, Professor."

* * *

Over the next few days, Filch paces restlessly and continuously up and down in front of the Chamber of Secrets message, which cannot seem to be removed by any means. Acacia would have asked Tom how to remove it, but does not want to make other people suspicious of her. Filch is in an even fouler mood than usual, is prone to fits of crying, loses his temper and shouts suddenly at passing people, and puts several more students than usual in detention.

Meanwhile, Acacia starts many casual conversations with fellow Slytherins. Secretly, she's vetting them to see if they know anything about the Chamber of Secrets. She even has Tom reach out to sense them. But no one seems to know anything, and Tom finds no hint of Dark magic emanating from anyone in the supposedly Dark Slytherin house. Acacia comes upon the occasional loudmouth, like Draco, who will tell anyone who will listen that this seems like a great and useful thing, this Chamber, but not even he seems to have a hint of his father's plot.

This makes things harder - she's closest to people in Slytherin. But the lack of Slytherin heirs also makes it better - only the Slytherins know (or suspect) that Acacia's a Parselmouth. And they aren't telling.

But in fact, Slytherins do start suddenly treating her even more deferentially than usual. Acacia can't figure this out at first, until she sees people from other houses start to back away from her in the corridor and whisper behind their hands about her in passing. People are starting to suspect _she's _the Heir of Slytherin - not for any good reason, but just because she's a powerful Slytherin witch and she evaded Lord Voldemort twice. Apparently, this automatically equals "Darkly magical Heir of Slytherin Extraordinaire."

Acacia finds the whole thing irritating and quite ridiculous, and she's relieved when Dumbledore finally calls her into his office to clear the whole mess up.

"I'm sorry, Acacia," he says, and he truly sounds it, "but we must ensure this isn't coming from you. I don't think it is. But caution, you see..." Snape, looking serious and worried, is standing beside the headmaster's chair.

"Yes, of course, sir," says Acacia impatiently. "Go ahead and read my mind. I have nothing to hide."

_Move out of the way, _she tells Tom, poking him, and Tom moves.

_You know, _he says, _I could be very annoyed about the way you treat me sometimes. _But he doesn't interfere with Dumbledore's search for the truth.

Dumbledore's blue eyes look directly into hers, and she can feel the X-ray sensation as Dumbledore moves along the surface of her mind. First, he checks to see if she's telling the truth - she is. She really thinks she didn't kill Filch's cat. Next, he checks her memory.

Dumbledore sits back, sighing in relief. "There are no blank spaces where you could have done anything untoward," he says, and Snape relaxes minutely as well. "I didn't think so - you were at the feast during the attack - but..."

"I understand, sir," she says. "I know enough to be suspicious. But it wasn't me. And I've checked other Slytherins. I don't think the possessed person is in my house."

"No, that would be too easy..." says Dumbledore, frowning thoughtfully.

"Sir," says Acacia uncomfortably at last, "I think the person who's doing this might be Lucius Malfoy."

Snape looks up at her sharply. "That's a very serious accusation," he says after a moment. "Lucius and I are friends."

"I know it's serious..." Acacia bites her lip, looking away. "But I have my reasons."

There's a moment of silence.

"Unless and until we find the victim of possession," says Dumbledore at last, "nothing can be done. We can't arrest Lucius on a suspicion. But I will keep what you have said in mind, Acacia."

* * *

Dumbledore makes another announcement over breakfast.

"I have heard the suspicions traveling around the school," he rumbles. "And I would like you to know that Acacia Potter's mind has been probed. She has been found not to be the culprit." Incredulous whispers break out all over the Great Hall, people craning to get a better look at her. "I would also like it to be noted," continues Dumbledore, "that Acacia has investigated this matter at great personal risk. She continues to provide invaluable information on what is going on around us."

Dumbledore sits down, and in her head Acacia thanks him.

* * *

A great cloud of suspicion engulfs the school. Students start second guessing and distrusting each other, especially new acquaintances.

But meanwhile, Acacia's fan club members aren't the only people grouping around her anymore. Many fearful students start to amass around Acacia, her friends and acquaintances from other houses amongst them.

"We know it isn't you," a Hufflepuff named Ernie explains once. "You're actually the only safe one."

* * *

Acacia wakes up on the morning of her first Quidditch match very nervous. She tries gamely to hide this over breakfast, smiling and joking about falling out of the air with her surrounding house mates ("Don't jinx it," says Marcus Flint grimly), and thanking people cheerfully whenever they walk by to tell her they expect she'll be great. Inside, she tries not to feel a deep sort of despair at ever living up to their expectations.

"If you don't win this for our house, you'll have failed us utterly," says Pansy matter of factly as Acacia stands to leave her with her team mates.

"Thanks, Pansy," says Acacia sarcastically. "That helps a lot."

"Just win it for the bloody house, Potter, alright?" drawls Draco.

Blaise and Daphne are obviously trying not to laugh. Acacia glares at them.

She and her team head into the locker rooms. Acacia, as the only girl, has one side all to herself. She changes into her green robes in the silence, left alone with her own thoughts. Acacia is not prone to bouts of self doubt, but fears deeply what will happen if she fucks up out on the field.

She goes back into the boy's side just in time for Marcus Flint's pep talk.

"I don't have to tell you how important this game is," he tells the players around him, glaring. "Gryffindor's our biggest rival. The last game aside, the first game is the only one almost everyone attends - it's everybody's first impression. We're the best team at Hogwarts. I don't care what you have to do to win; _just win. _For Slytherin," he says.

"For Slytherin!" everyone shouts back.

They all stand and, with weak legs, Acacia follows her team out onto the field.

Loud cheers and boos surround them in the stadium. Lee Jordan, the biased Gryffindor, is already sitting in the commentator's box. Several teachers and parents, as usual, have come out to watch the game, and so have almost the entire student body. Acacia wonders vaguely if the possessed student isn't somewhere up there.

Madam Hooch has the two team Captains meet in the middle. Flint and Wood shake hands, each looking like they're attempting to break the other's fingers.

"Mount your brooms," says Madam Hooch. Everyone gets onto their broomsticks. Acacia remembers how to do this. That is a hopeful sign. "Three - two - one -" She blasts on her whistle.

Fifteen brooms rise high, high up into the air. Acacia flies higher than everyone, watching the game below, squinting around for the Snitch. She sees Harrison do the same beside her.

Just then, Fred Weasley pitches a Bludger right at Acacia face. She dives out of the way, and Carson flies up to hit the Bludger back toward Alicia Spinnet of the Gryffindor team. But the Bludger makes a circle and comes right back. Carson hits it away again - it comes back again.

_Someone's cursed it to come after you, _Tom offers her clinically in her mind.

"Carson, wait, let me try something!" Acacia calls, just to make sure, and she flies away. She can hear the Bludger whistling along behind her as she dives, makes sharp turns, and does everything she can to let it go past her.

The Bludger follows her movements exactly. Tom is right.

Now there is murmuring and whispering in the stadium; people are beginning to point up toward Acacia and the Bludger.

_Let me take over - _Tom starts.

_No, _says Acacia - excitedly, not rudely, _I think I know what to do._

She takes her wand out of the sleeve of her Quidditch robes and points it back behind her, whispering the Disorientation Charm. That's what Tom used on the troll last year. It messes with a being or sentient object's sense of vertigo, and then makes it flicker out of consciousness. The spell hits the Bludger - which falls away, right down out of the sky, like a bird with a broken wing.

Acacia puts her wand back into her sleeve and flies up sharply, banking near Harrison again. She can hear loud cheers coming from the stands below, particularly the Slytherin side.

_Very nice, _says Tom, surprised. _That's an advanced spell._

Acacia smiles. She turns to Harrison and shouts, "Nice try, but I don't think so!"

Harrison looks confused, but for all she knows, that could just be an act. She didn't think the Gryffindors had it in them. She's almost impressed.

It starts raining about halfway through the game. Acacia's robes and hair quickly get soaked, and she gains the appearance of one who's just come out of a swimming pool. Irritated, she squints through the rain, watching the Quaffle be passed back and forth with claps of water below. For the others, the rain might not be so bad, but rain means limited visibility and that's not good for Seekers. She'll have to be careful...

At last, looking around carefully, she sees a flash of gold near Carson's ear. In a whirl of excitement, she dives down toward him. The Gryffindor Beaters, who aren't doing much with only one Bludger, dive down to stop her, but the Slytherin Beaters block their way, smirking, and also temporarily waylay Harrison who had dived downward behind her.

Acacia reaches out, and catches the Snitch to loud cheers.

From there, it's all a bit of a blur. The other Slytherin players smash into her and completely squash her flat in triumph. Other Slytherins run down onto the field, cheering, a charging stampede of umbrellas. Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevey are jumping around, and don't seem to know what to do as Acacia won but Gryffindor, their house, lost.

Parties are rare in Slytherin house, but that night, a celebration is held in the common room in honor of the extremely wet players, with multi-colored Filibuster Fireworks being let off, and Flint and Carson competing heavily in a drinking match with a container of Butterbeers that had been hidden underneath one older student's bed fresh from Hogsmeade Village. Acacia laughs and claps along, sipping at her warm and sweet Butterbeer.

Even Professor Snape celebrates, by not bursting in to ask them what all the noise is in the middle of the party.

* * *

Acacia has finally toweled herself off and gone to bed late that night, pulling her silk green and silver hangings closed and pulling the covers up around her. She can hear the lake water lapping against the windows, lulling her, and she's halfway asleep when...

With a crack, a tiny form appears standing on her stomach.

Acacia shrieks, going for her wand, but the creature has already erected a silencing charm around them. She squints through the darkness - it's Dobby. He looks distinctly miserable.

"... _Dobby?" _she asks incredulously. "What - how did you even get _in _here? Wizards aren't even supposed to be allowed to Apparate within Hogwarts."

"Dobby is not a wizard, miss," Dobby points out logically. "House elf magic does not work the same."

"But what are you doing here?" Acacia asks, though uneasily, she has an idea...

"Miss Acacia Potter came back to school," says Dobby miserably. "Dobby had to intervene. Why, Miss Acacia, why did you come back to school? Why didn't you go home when you missed the train?"

"I think you underestimate my stubbornness, Dobby," says Acacia, annoyed. "So the Bludger was you. The barrier - that was you, too?"

Dobby nods, looking down at his feet. "Dobby had to iron his hands later in self punishment," says Dobby. "But it was all worth it to Dobby, because he thought Miss Acacia was safe..."

Acacia feels sympathy for Dobby, but knows she can't let it cloud her judgment. "But Dobby, don't you understand? I can fix this! You can help me!" Acacia waves her arms for emphasis, scowling. "Dobby, I have powers you don't know about. I can _handle _this. Now, let's try some more yes or no questions.

"Do you know who's possessed?"

Dobby nods slowly.

"Is it a Slytherin?"

Shake of the head.

"Hufflepuff?"

Shake of the head.

"Gryffindor?"

A pause. Then Dobby nods yes.

"The last place anyone would think to look - Slytherin's arch rival," says Acacia wonderingly. "Just like the last place anyone would think to look for the Chamber is..."

She realizes Dobby is staring at her with big eyes and closes her mouth quickly.

"I'm on the trail, alright?" she snaps at last, annoyed.

* * *

It's all over the school the next day. Colin Creevey was attacked in a corridor late after curfew last night, and is now lying, stiff, cold, and white, in the hospital - Petrified. Colin of course being a Muggleborn, this thoroughly frightens almost everyone.

Acacia goes to see Colin in the hospital wing between classes. She stares down at him in worry. His pale face and blank, staring eyes certainly make him look dead. It's only the rigidness to his body and the fact that his chest's still moving that gives away the Petrification.

Ginny Weasley is crying next to Colin's bedside, distraught. Ginny looks unwell - thin and peakish under her flaming red hair. Acacia imagines this all must be very frightening to the first years. And Ginny being a "blood traitor" - well, in a bigot's eyes, that's not much better than being a Muggleborn or a Squib.

"Oh, Ginny," says Acacia, "I'm sure he'll be alright. I heard Madam Pomfrey talking - they're going to wait until Professor Sprout's Mandrake plants have matured and then Professor Snape's going to make a Restorative Draught with them." Ginny continues to sob, inconsolable.

Acacia sits next to her, hand on her shoulder, for a few minutes. Then she says seriously, "Ginny, there's something I have to ask you. Something important."

Ginny looks up through her damp fingers.

"Have you noticed any Gryffindors acting oddly lately?" she asks. "Is there possibly anyone who missed the Halloween feast, for example?"

Ginny shakes her head. "N-no - no -" she stammers quickly, but she looks terrified.

Acacia is skeptical, but decides not to push the girl anymore before she snaps. "Okay," she says dubiously, standing to her feet. "But if you see anything, let me know, okay?" She figures it's safest to ask Ginny - Ginny worships her, after all.

* * *

The next afternoon, it's a Saturday, and Acacia comes up with a somewhat risky idea. She walks into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, attempting to see if this mysterious Basilisk could possibly tell her about the possessed person... Now would be a really good time for a Seer's dream, but her subconscious is annoyingly silent...

But the minute she walks in, she stops and stares. The floor is flooded with water and Moaning Myrtle is wailing even louder than usual inside her toilet. Sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor is a small black book. Someone tried to flush it away down the toilet.

Acacia walks over and picks it up. It's an empty diary. She opens it up.

_T. _is written on the first page in smudged ink.

Ink. Her dream at the start of term.

_Well, Tom, _she says into the shocked silence, _I think we've found your Horcrux._

_... Don't do anything with it yet, _he orders cunningly after a long moment of silence. _This particular Horcrux was made to feed off of people's darkest emotions and deepest secrets. Wait until Christmas break. To unlock its secrets is going to take a great battle of wits._


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Six: Battle of Wits_

Colin Creevey's death alarms the school. Practically everyone is eager to leave for the upcoming Christmas holidays. (The only person Acacia knows who's staying is Draco Malfoy, whose grandfather is dying back at home and who frankly has nothing to fear.) Meanwhile, frightened people start moving in packs around Acacia through the corridors, as though they believe this will somehow save them. Student mistrust of each other reaches new heights. A black market in talismans and amulets starts up around the school, away from the eyes of the teachers. Tracey Davis hangs crystals all around the posters of her bed, which Pansy makes great fun of her for.

"You're just afraid because you're a Mudblood," says Pansy mockingly. Tracey looks down sullenly, face flushed.

"You should be afraid, Parkinson," says Acacia lazily, paging through an edition of _Witch Weekly _magazine with her feet up on her pillow. "You're almost a Squib." Daphne suppresses laughter from where she's curled up in her bed, reading.

Millie moves toward Acacia threateningly. "Oh, sure," says Acacia sarcastically, "just try to get close enough to touch me, Bulstrode." Millie stops, scowling. All the bulk in the world wouldn't help her in a fight with a witch with Seeker-honed reflexes who always has her wand and several nasty spells on her.

Pansy gives Acacia an extremely nasty look and flounces away.

* * *

A week passes, and then a notice appears on the notice boards in all the common rooms, and also on the one in the entrance hall. A Dueling Club is starting up, says the parchment, and the first meeting is tonight.

"We should go," says Blaise immediately.

"It's too bad they don't tell you which teacher's hosting the club, though," says Acacia, frowning.

"Why would that matter?" asks Blaise. "Snape and Flitwick are both supposed to be great duelists -"

"But imagine if they gave us Lockhart," says Daphne.

The three of them look at each other and start laughing. "Oh, come on," says Blaise, "not even Dumbledore would be _that _dumb..."

* * *

The Great Hall has been emptied, with a great gold stage put in its center, and swaggering up onto the center of the stage is Gilderoy Lockhart. Acacia sees several students in the crowd look viscerally disappointed. But then after him onto the stage walks... Severus Snape.

"It's Snape!" whispers Acacia, her face changing to glee. "It's Snape, look!"

"Maybe they'll duel -"

"Maybe he'll hurt him -"

"Maybe he'll _kill _him -"

Blaise and Acacia turn in surprise to Daphne, who had said this last bit. "You know, _accidentally,_" she elaborates.

"I bet I could fake some tears to make it look more realistic," says Acacia immediately, grinning and catching on. "You know, 'Oh, Professor Lockhart, he was the greatest teacher we ever had -!'"

Blaise snickers.

Lockhart, beaming in as canned a way as usual, waves his arm expansively for them all to gather round him in preparation for his great words of wisdom. _Words of wisdom. _Acacia snorts. _I bet he couldn't win a duel if his opponent just stood there with their arms open._

Lockhart's lessons have not improved since the disastrous pixie episode. He now enacts favorite passages from his books for them. This might be useful if he actually taught them how to work any of the curses he said he'd performed.

"Gather round, gather round!" shouts Lockhart. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Snape looks like he is trying very hard not to sneer - probably because Lockhart's technically a teacher. The look in his eyes is very threatening as he and Lockhart stand across from each other on the stage. Lockhart's face has not changed. It must hurt, beaming that much all the time.

Insulting a master of combative magic may not have been the best idea Lockhart ever had, but maybe he didn't know Snape was one. Acacia can just imagine Lockhart in the staff room, unable to hear anyone else speak over the sound of his own voice.

Lockhart and Snape bow to each other, as is standard. Lockhart does it very dramatically, with much whirling of the hands. Snape inclines his head a little bit.

They raise their wands like swords in front of them, and Lockhart counts down. "One - two - three -" They swing their wands around their heads and point them at their opponent.

Lockhart's reflexes are slow; Snape calls out the disarming spell and the jet of red magic hits Lockhart with such force that he's blasted off his feet and off the stage and his wand flies away to land somewhere in the crowds.

Several young witches scream, but Acacia and her fellow Slytherins are too busy laughing and cheering to notice. Lockhart stands unsteadily and tries to bluff it off - "felt it would be instructive to let them see", it's all bollocks - but after that he seems to think it best if there are no more demonstrations. Instead, he and Professor Snape go through the crowds, pairing students together to try to practice dueling on their own.

Acacia is paired with Blaise by Snape, which is a great thing because they've already dueled before and she's in familiar territory. Another plus: Blaise probably won't try to kill her.

At Lockhart's command, Acacia and Blaise bow to each other. Blaise smirks and raises an eyebrow. _Ready? _Acacia smirks back, tensing.

All of a sudden, Blaise begins. He shoots a burst of fire at her. Acacia shoots a freezing charm at the fire and it shatters into pieces on the floor. She shoots a disorientation spell at him, he fires back a general counter-spell, and they're right back to where they started.

Acacia and Blaise pause, measuring the distance between them for a moment.

That's when Lockhart starts screaming, "Stop! Stop!" But Snape is more decisive.

"Finite Incatatem!" he shouts, and all magic in the room suddenly stops.

Acacia looks around. Everything else is a disaster. Lockhart walks among the students, tutting disapprovingly. A haze of smoke covers the scene. Some people have fallen over; some are unconscious; others are bleeding. Lockhart suggests they have a volunteer pair of students with which to teach the blocking of unfriendly spells.

Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff and Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor stand up on the stage, one teacher behind each of them. Snape tells Justin what to do - a particularly vicious Severing Charm at Longbottom's arm - and Lockhart tries to tell Neville how to perform a basic counter-spell, but in the process drops his wand. Then Justin has fired off the spell and Neville, abandoning all pretense, jumps off the stage and jogs away.

Loud gales of laughter follow this little display. "Very nice, Longbottom," says Snape, smirking. "That's exactly what someone with no honor would do in a duel. An excellent display."

Neville flushes.

Su Li, a quiet Ravenclaw girl whose parents are from China, is sent up onstage next. (Lockhart has never stopped finding Slytherins frightening since that day in the classroom with the pixies.) Snape tells Justin what to do, and then has to go over and tell Su Li what to do.

Su Li fires off a Dancing Feet spell at Justin, who does the Counter Spell correctly. "There is a more advanced Shield Charm," says Snape informatively. "But I believe that's a bit much for two second years. Could we have an older pair come up on stage?"

Two older students walk up and demonstrate the golden Shield Charm.

"Very good, very good!" says Lockhart, beaming. "Letting him get some first hands on time with the students, you know." He winks at the crowd.

Severus Snape looks at Gilderoy Lockhart with the deepest contempt and hatred.

They are set in pairs to practice again. Acacia gets Draco this time. He smirks. "Scared?" he asks.

"Wrong as usual, Malfoy," she responds coolly.

This time, Acacia goes first. She shoots a levitation spell at Draco, making him go up in the air and then back down with a great crash. He shoots a knockback jinx at her; she meets it in the middle with a counter spell. She uses the disarming charm Snape demonstrated; he blocks it.

Then their brief duel is over. Acacia moves on... and comes face to face with Pansy Parkinson.

A wide, unholy grin spreads over Pansy Parkinson's face. "I'm going to enjoy this," she says, her eyes narrowing and twisting her already puggish face.

Acacia frowns, but inside she's uncertain. They bow to each other, very slightly, and then they begin.

Acacia, just testing the waters, tries a tickling charm. Pansy doubles over laughing - then suddenly, while bending over, Pansy attacks with a nasty spell called Curse of the Bogies; Acacia manages to block it in time, and with equal dislike she shoots an Engorgement Charm at Pansy's wand arm. Pansy blocks.

Pansy does a smokescreen spell, and Acacia knows she's going for something big and doesn't want Acacia to see. But Acacia can sense magic. She feels out Pansy's magical signature, and quickly fires off a double-spell at it. She hears Pansy gasp, and then nothing.

When the smoke fades, Pansy has fallen over. She's in a full body bind, her arms and legs pinned together in a more advanced version of the leg locker curse. Her wand has been temporarily Transfigured into a feather in her hand.

Acacia walks over to her, and smirks down into her face. She considers stomping on Pansy's face, but decides not to. Instead, she turns away dismissively.

* * *

A snow blizzard starts up the next day, so heavy Herbology and Astronomy are both canceled because of the weather. Acacia spends time with a blanket reading in the common room by the fire and tries to ignore Pansy sending her occasional glares.

The blizzard fades, leaving an incredible amount of snow behind, and pretty soon it's time to head home. Christmas break has arrived. Acacia takes the carriages down to the Express, which carries her to London. She and Mary struggle together through the snow with her suitcase, Hedwig being released to fly fittingly through the world of white above them.

Christmas is, of course, fun as always. They eat lots of good food, bake Christmas cookies, decorate the tree and cottage together, exchange gifts, and they even build a snowman to stand sentry outside their house. But Mary also wants to have a conversation with Acacia.

"Sit down," she says at the kitchen table one day. Acacia sits down, uncertain.

"I've been thinking it over," Mary begins. "And I'm not sure you should go back to school."

Acacia immediately feels anger well up within her, disbelief and horror. "I can't quit _now," _she says. "I'll fall too far behind. Godmum, I'm one of the best in my year! And all my friends are there, they'll go on without me!"

"I know," Mary admits. "But it's just so dangerous. With that cat dead and that poor boy attacked... Acacia, you're not a Pureblood. A lot of people were very upset when your father married your mother. And if this person is connected to You Know Who..."

"I'll be alright," says Acacia heatedly. "I escaped him before."

"On a fluke," says Mary angrily.

"_Not _on a fluke!" says Acacia with equal temper, standing. "On my abilities!"

"I don't want you going back to that school," snaps Mary.

"Well, I'm _going _back, whether you like it or not!" says Acacia, and she runs to her room.

* * *

She's laying on her bed later, staring up at the ceiling. Tom tells her at last, _... That was childish._

_She doesn't understand, _says Acacia.

_Because you haven't explained anything to her, _says Tom sharply. _Don't play the melodramatic teenager, Acacia, it doesn't suit you._

_Whose side are you on? _Acacia asks, and Tom sends her a current of frustrated anger. Acacia sighs. _Do you want me to tell her? _she asks at last.

_No, _Tom admits. _I think she would take it extremely badly. _

There's a moment of silence.

At last, Tom sighs. _I can't believe I'm the one suggesting a Muggleborn is a reasonable human being, _he says dryly, _but she is just trying to protect you. You're lucky. No one gave a damn about me._

* * *

There's a hurt silence about the house for the rest of the night, and Acacia goes to bed with tears in her eyes. Next morning, she wakes up and shuffles with dread out into the kitchen. Mary is at the counter. She and Mary don't look at each other.

There's an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Acacia forces out at last, through her pride. She holds her arm and looks away, uncomfortable. "You're just trying to help."

Mary sighs. "I probably shouldn't have tried to stop you, kiddo," she says. "You have a drive like no one else I've ever seen, and you're going places. I just worry about you, that's all." She tucks a strand of red hair back behind one of Acacia's ears. "A lot of very powerful, dangerous people are interested in you.

"And that frightens me."

* * *

Acacia has a Seer's dream. She is looking into a watery reflection, and when she gazes into the water, a dark-haired young man appears before her. Tom.

Then he disappears in a wash of red ink.

Acacia opens her eyes. _It's time, _she supposes. _I should get the diary out._

She ducks underneath her bed and pulls the diary out of her trunk. She opens it up and, following Tom's orders, writes the words across the diary in ink, _My name is Acacia._

The ink is absorbed into the page, and then in the same ink words in different handwriting come spilling out. _Hello, Acacia. My name is Tom. How did you come by my diary?_

Acacia debates her answer. _Someone gave it to me. The last owner of this book._

There is a long pause, but to her disappointment, Tom doesn't reveal who the owner of the book was. _... So she told you, _he guesses at last. That narrows it down: Gryffindor girl.

_That you were manipulating her? Oh, yes, _says Acacia, lying. _She told me everything._

_And you're going to turn me in._

_Oh, I think it's a little soon for that yet, Tom._

_Too right it is. I would like to get to know you better. The famous Acacia Potter._

Acacia can hear the other Tom whispering in her ear: _The more he knows about you, the closer he gets to controlling you..._

_I'm not nearly as interesting as I'm painted out to be, I'm afraid, _she writes back.

_You've been investigating the Chamber of Secrets all this time, though?_

_I'm lucky enough that I have some interesting weapons at my disposal._

_Interesting weapons?_

_Ha ha. Nice try._

She closes the book on a frustrated Tom Riddle.

* * *

_Do we tell him I'm a Horcrux? _she asks her Tom.

_Well, he'd certainly treat you different, _Tom admits. _But how different, I cannot say... He probably already sees you as a rival, an enemy... A point of interest..._

_So we hold off on it for now? _she guesses.

_For now, _he agrees, _let's be cautious._

* * *

So over Christmas break, she has fun playing word games with the younger Tom Riddle, leading him around and around in frustrating circles, torturing him for a good time. Tom's clever, and she has to be careful, which keeps things interesting. The more they write, the more Tom's writing gets scrawled and careless, as if in a hurry to write back.

She can tell she has his attention, but since he has no hold over her mind, he can't do anything about it. Before a person who will not let him into her heart and mind, a Horcrux is basically powerless.

_How do you know how this diary works? _he asks her once.

_One of my interesting weapons, _she answers back.

There is a pause. _I like you, _Tom decides. _I also hate you. It's a complex sensation._

Acacia actually laughs out loud.

* * *

When she gets back to Hogwarts, she greets all her friends, hugging them and asking them how their break has been. She asks after Draco's grandfather. But then, as soon as she gets a chance, she walks up to the Room of Requirement and asks for a hiding place. What it gives her is a huge room, resembling a cathedral, with long, high windows. Mountains and mountains of odds and ends, magical and not so much, countless things Hogwarts students have hidden over the centuries, are piled inside.

She puts the little black diary on top of one pile. She doesn't want anyone who doesn't understand the diary to come into contact with Dark magic. But she does take the diary with her to classes in her bookbag. She feels an odd connection to it, as if it's a friend she knew when she was very small.

She wonders if that's how all Horcruxes from the same person feel when they come into contact with each other.

It's odd, knowing that by holding slivers of Voldemort's soul, she's keeping him alive. She tries not to think of it that way. She thinks of it as keeping Tom alive - imagines him triumphing over the darker parts of himself.

Maybe that's a kind of self-delusion, but it's one she has to keep up.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Seven: Changes_

Hogwarts begins to feel lighter-hearted as December becomes February and things have gone basically back to normal. There have still been no attacks. Gilderoy Lockhart congratulates himself on making the attacks stop without doing anything and then celebrates by "decorating" Hogwarts for Valentines Day.

On the morning of February 14th, the Great Hall's walls are covered in huge pink flowers. Heart shaped confetti falls from the ceiling. Lockhart is wearing pink robes to match the decorations up at the teacher's table, and is beaming wider than usual.

"You're right, Draco," says Acacia, obviously trying not to laugh from her place at the Slytherin table. "I have no idea why anyone would be attracted to a straight man who hangs gigantic pink flowers from walls in his spare time."

Millie looks disgusted. "I am offended," she intones. "Deeply offended."

Pansy and Tracey are still trying to get the confetti out of their hair. Acacia and Daphne look at each other and then burst out laughing.

The boys are apparently struck speechless.

Lockhart stands and clears his throat for silence. On either side of him, Snape looks appalled and McGonagall looks furious. Lockhart wishes them all Happy Valentines Day, thanks the forty-six girls who have so far sent him cards, and admits cheerfully that this was all him.

("Great," Theo mutters. "Now I know whose life to end.")

It gets better. Lockhart claps his hands and twelve surly-looking dwarfs stomp into the Great Hall. They're all wearing golden wings and carrying harps. Lockhart calls them cupids. They're there to deliver people's valentines throughout the day.

Blaise has put a hand over his mouth as Acacia and Daphne shake with silent laughter beside him.

"And the fun doesn't stop here!" Lockhart continues. "I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Flitwick buries his face in his hands and Snape glares threateningly around the Great Hall. Acacia's pretty sure she could get away with asking him, though. Not because she actually wants to use one. But just to see the expression on his face.

* * *

Lockhart's idea turns out to be great fun, though probably not for the reasons he had originally intended it to be. Acacia enjoys laughing at all the people who are attacked by dwarves and forced to listen to valentines, at all the teachers whose lessons are interrupted by card carrying dwarves. (The singing valentines are her personal favorites.)

The runners are particularly enjoyable - they'll run from the idea of the card carrying cupid announcing their valentine to the whole hall, and then the dwarf will bowl them over and sit on their legs while reading out the valentine to them in a loud, grunting voice anyway.

Once, a person actually bowls her over on their way through a spectacular and rather bloody fall from a dwarf. Her things go everywhere, diary and textbooks and parchment in disarray, and Acacia laughs breathlessly and says in amusement, "Watch it, your budding young love is taking people out," as she apologizes to little Ginny Weasley, whom she knocked over.

During Potions, while Snape is near her work station, she smirks and asks, "Hey, Professor Snape, so about what Lockhart said about that love po -"

"Miss Potter, if you ask me for a Love Potion, I will have you expelled," says Snape darkly.

Trying not to laugh, Acacia bends back down over her potion and says nothing. Draco is sniggering at her side.

Acacia gets no valentines from the card-carrying cupids (thank God). This doesn't, however, mean she gets no valentines.

Greg Goyle, big and hulking and silent and slow, walks up to her between classes, blushing, and silently hands her a heart-shaped card. Acacia is endlessly surprised. She'd never talked to Greg before.

"Oh," she says, awwing a little, "thank you so much." She smiles and takes the heart-shaped card. Inside is a selection of candies and sweets from Greg's - a true foodie's - private stores.

The surprise doesn't end there. She gets a couple of Valentines from her boy Gryffindor friends as well. Ron sends her a card with his favorite Quidditch team on the front and Seamus gives her a surprisingly sophisticated love poem which she later finds out he copied from somewhere else.

Most peculiar of all is an anonymous Valentines Day present. It's an actual, wrapped gift. Inside are a Golden Snitch to practice Quidditch with outside team meetings, a book full of curses, and an exotic perfume called Black Opium. The gift is actually... perfect?

_Just trying to outdo all the other tossers on this ridiculous holiday, _says the frankly amusing card sarcastically, in handwriting that looks vaguely familiar. She's on the lookout for it for the rest of the day, and only when she looks down in surprise at Draco Malfoy's handwriting during Potions does she recognize it.

Draco's scribbling out an instruction and writing something else in its place. (Snape often bends down over the Slytherin work tables to give them advice on how to modify potion instructions to get better results, a bonus he doesn't offer any other house.) She stares in surprise at his handwriting, and then looks up at him, his pale, sharp-featured face bent in concentration over the parchment.

He looks up. "What?" he says, irritated and self conscious.

Acacia looks away and smiles. "Oh, nothing."

Draco glares at her suspiciously for a moment, and then goes back to their potion.

* * *

A few days later, Acacia is walking back toward her house quarters one day when she feels a spell hit her suddenly from behind, causing an awful pain and a spurt of blood from her face. Just a second later, she feels something hit her hard over the head and she blacks out.

She wakes staring at the hospital ceiling. "There you are, Miss Potter," says Madam Pomfrey briskly.

Acacia moans. Her head hurts.

"A couple of Ravenclaws found you passed out and took you to the hospital wing," says the Healer, helping her sit up.

"What happened?" Acacia asks.

"Someone appears to have attacked you. They gave you a bloody nose, and then hit you over the head with something heavy - possibly with a levitation charm," says Madam Pomfrey. Even through all her strictness, she seems vaguely concerned. "You didn't see them?"

Acacia shakes her head. "No," she says, cursing silently. "They attacked me from behind. When I find out who did this -"

"At first, we thought you'd been attacked by the Basilisk," says Madam Pomfrey. "But the attack didn't fit. It wasn't devastating enough. I managed to heal you fairly quickly. Please look through your things to make sure nothing's been stolen."

Acacia bends down beside her hospital bed and begins rooting through her things. She pauses, and then pales. Tom Riddle's diary is gone.

"Miss Potter? Is everything alright?" asks Madam Pomfrey.

Acacia looks up and fakes a smile. "Oh, yes, everything's fine."

She's not willing to admit that she just fucked up - majorly.

* * *

"Acacia! Acacia!"

Acacia and her Slytherin friends are walking out of the library one day when Hermione Granger runs up behind them. She's clutching a piece of parchment and smiling eagerly.

"I think I've figured out something about the Chamber of Secrets," she says, and then begins walking alongside Acacia and talking rapidly without asking for permission. "I think it's a Basilisk, you see, a great snake that can kill and petrify through its stare, I wondered at first how it would get around, but then I thought maybe the plumbing -"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Granger?" asks Draco snidely. "If we found the snake and destroyed it?"

"Of course I would, it killed an innocent cat and hurt Colin!" says Hermione, shrilly and heatedly.

"I know, poor ickle Colin," says Pansy mockingly. "The snake picked the wrong person. It went after Colin when instead it could have gone after _you."_ Millie and Tracey laugh obligingly.

Draco and Theo are about to say something else, something snotty, but Acacia interjects firmly, "The snake's not going after anyone, if I can help it." Hermione smiles over at her; she had previously been looking red-faced and rather teary.

"Oh, look! It's the Great Heroine!" The other Slytherins begin bowing to her sarcastically.

Acacia sighs. "Fuck off," she says casually, amused though she'd never admit to it.

"Why are you always so gung ho about Mudbloods, anyway -?" Draco begins, but then Acacia puts up her hand, her entire expression changing.

"Shut up!" she commands.

Everyone falls silent, pausing and staring at her.

Acacia is quiet, listening closely. And then she hears it: _"Rip... tear... kill..."_

"Hey, what's that... hissing noise?" Vince begins slowly, frowning. They can hear a sort of heavy slithering sound coming around the corner -

"Shit. Run!" Acacia's eyes widen and the color drains from her face.

All the Slytherins and the lone Gryffindor turn around and begin sprinting, away from the slithering and the hissing voice. They can hear the snake hissing and spitting, coming farther and farther up behind them, can see its shadow -

"Keep running, I'll stall it!" Hermione cries, and before Acacia can stop her, Hermione stops and takes out her mirror, keeping her back to the snake. She sees the snake's eyes through the mirror, but at the same time she sees exactly where to aim for. She points her wand, fires off a spell -

The snake rears back, hissing and spitting, blood pouring from its face. It turns around and slithers away, back around the corner and out of sight.

"_Shit_," says Draco, pausing and letting out his breath. The Slytherins have all stopped in shock, weak-legged.

Her face expressionless, Acacia walks over to Hermione Granger's fallen form. Pale, stiff, and petrified, she stares up at them, lifeless, the wand and mirror still clutched in her hand, triumph on her face.

* * *

Hermione Granger has been taken up to the hospital wing. The Slytherin first years are gathered, silent, around the fireplace. They stare at the floor.

_... Why would she do that? _Tom asks at last, speaking within Acacia's mind. He sounds genuinely confused.

Draco has the same question. "Why would she do something like that for us?" he asks. "We were always picking on her, and on people like her."

Acacia sighs and shifts. "She did it because she's a good person, Draco," she says. "Muggleborns are just as capable of being good people as anyone else."

Draco looks pale, disturbed. The sight of a seemingly dead Muggleborn does not seem to have excited him as much as he always thought it would.

"... I didn't even know a Muggleborn could just do magic, on the fly like that," says Millie, surprising everyone. There's a reluctant respect in her voice. "I mean, I was always just told they stole their magic, and could only do it in certain settings. That Cutting Charm was pretty mean, and if it hurt a Basilisk it was fairly powerful."

"I just don't see why they have to intrude on our world," says Theo, leaning back and staring up expressionlessly at the ceiling. "Don't they already have one?"

"Can you imagine what it must be like, being a Muggleborn witch or wizard, Theo?" she asks. "Always doing impossible things, having people be terrified of you? Never fitting in or belonging anywhere? It's -"

She can feel Tom going back through his own memory bank - his time at the orphanage. He was raised as a Muggleborn. _It's -_

"Horrible," they finish together.

"And that's the common Muggleborn experience," says Acacia with emphasis. "That's what they all go through, every day. It's what my Mum probably went through. It's what lots of perfectly powerful witches and wizards go through.

"It's easy just to say they don't try to understand wizarding culture and leave it at that, but can you see? Can't you see why they wouldn't want to stay where they are, not being like anyone else? Everyone wants a place to fit in. And every time we judge them, we deny them that.

"Wizards and Muggles aren't the same - that tired old Light argument isn't true. But that's exactly why Muggleborn witches and wizards have it so hard. They don't really belong anywhere. But that doesn't stop them from existing.

"I support Muggleborn witches and wizards because, as far as I can see it, we have two options. We can either leave them in the Muggle world and try to make them pretend to be Muggles when they're not. Or we can bring them in and try to teach them about our way of doing things.

"Take Hermione, for example. Make fun of her all you want, but she's the best in our year. And it's because she's _smart. _She _gets stuff_. And if anyone ever tried to teach her about wizarding culture, I bet she'd be perfectly willing to listen. The girl goes mad every time a book's placed in front of her."

There is some slight laughter of admittance around the common room. Others are listening, too - not just the first years. Tom is, too; he seems... thoughtful. As if reassessing his assumptions.

Acacia imagines that they, like her, are trying to reconcile the two images she has of Hermione in her head. One, the skinny, crooked-toothed, frizzy-haired bookworm. And the other, the powerful witch who was Petrified fending off a Basilisk.

* * *

The entire house is packed away in the common room, listening to Professor Snape read off from a roll of parchment:

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

He looks up, and his eyes linger for a moment on Acacia.

"If anyone knows anything, please come forward," he says. "Otherwise, we may have to close the school." He leaves and the common room dissolves into murmurs.

He has almost reached the door out of the common room when Acacia runs up behind him and tugs on his sleeve. "Sir," she says desperately, "it's a Gryffindor girl. I've figured that part out. She's carrying a little black diary. Please, sir, if you could tell Dumbledore -"

Snape looks down at her expressionlessly for a moment.

"I cannot tell Professor Dumbledore anything," he says. "Rubeus Hagrid has been sent to Azkaban Prison and Albus Dumbledore has been asked to step down from his post as headmaster at Hogwarts School."

Acacia is dumbstruck for a moment.

"Who - who in the _hell _would order a thing like that?" she asks at last, outraged.

"Lucius Malfoy," says Snape softly. "He has... _persuaded _the other members of the school board to see things his way."

He and Acacia share a significant look.

* * *

The aura around the castle is very subdued and fearful, not at all like normal. Students aren't even allowed into the hospital wing to visit the victims anymore. The last thing anyone feels like doing is signing up for third year elective classes. But still, they must.

Sitting in the common room, Acacia looks down her list of options.

_Muggle Studies _\- She already knows about Muggles pretty well. She doesn't need that.

_Care of Magical Creatures _\- A possibility.

_Ancient Runes _\- Definitely a must. She wants to find out how her rune scroll works.

_Divination - _Also a must. She's a Dreamseer and she wants to learn more about it.

_Arithmancy - _A more mathematical way of predicting the future. Good for magical research. Acacia decides it would be good for her career prospects. So she puts that one down as well.

As students are only allowed three, she has thus decided: Divination, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter Eight: Secrets_

One morning in the Great Hall close to finals, Professor McGonagall stands and makes an announcement:

"Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

There is cheering all over the Great Hall - even, to Acacia's surprise, from the Slytherin table.

Everyone's still talking in excitement about the announcement as they leave the Great Hall for classes, but Ron Weasley walks up to Acacia and taps her on the shoulder, frowning.

None of the Slytherins make their usual 'blood traitor' comments and he pauses in surprise. "Whoa," he says. "I just walked up to a bunch of Slytherins and none of them said anything."

"Filthy blood traitor," says Pansy helpfully.

"There, that's better," says Ron. "Anyway..." He turns back to Acacia. "I'm not sure what that was," he says, "but my little sister Ginny just walked up to tell me she knows something about the Chamber of Secrets. I was about to ask her what, but our older brother Percy came up and she ran away."

"... Why are you telling me this?" Acacia asks at last.

Ron shrugs helplessly. "You just seem like the person to tell."

Acacia nods her head slowly. "Okay... thanks," she says, thinking hard. She keeps walking.

Could Ginny Weasley know something about the possessed person? Even worse... could she _be _the possessed person?

* * *

Acacia takes her invisibility cloak with her in her pocket for classes the rest of the day. She wants to use it to wander the castle searching for Ginny the first time she gets a chance. Acacia hasn't seen Ginny all day, not with the other Gryffindor first years, not since Ron mentioned her - and that in itself is suspicious.

Then Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified to reach the whole school, echoes throughout the corridors a few minutes before break.

"_All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please." _

All the classrooms empty out their contents, students spilling into the halls. Acacia steps behind a statue, and pulls out her cloak, wrapping it around herself.

"Acacia?" Blaise looks around. "Acacia? Oh, shit. She's gone!" He turns to the other Slytherin first years.

Acacia melts away down the corridor toward the staff room, silent and invisible.

The staff room turns out to be a wood paneled room with comfortable-looking chairs. A fire burns in the grate. Acacia sneaks in behind Professor Flitwick, standing in a corner and listening.

The rest of the teachers file in. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrives.

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick lets out a squeal. Professor Sprout claps her hands over her mouth. Snape grips the back of a chair very hard and says, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," says Professor McGonagall, who is very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" says Madam Hooch, who has sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," says Professor McGonagall.

Acacia slides away and silently through the staff room door, which is open. But she nearly runs, there, into a very familiar face - Professor Lockhart, arriving late. He feels something invisible brush against him, whips out his wand, says a spell. Acacia dodges and it hits the stone ceiling above Lockhart, which immediately rains heavy stones down on him.

The teachers, thoroughly overexcited, scream and run out into the corridor to deal with the unconscious Lockhart. Inept to the end, he will never teach again.

Acacia takes advantage of their silence, and continues down the corridor toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

* * *

She enters the bathroom and Myrtle, floating over the toilet tank and picking at a spot on her chin, immediately pauses and glares at the opening door. "Who's there?" she asks shrilly.

Acacia takes off her cloak. "It's me," she says.

"What are you doing here?" Myrtle asks rudely.

"Trying to keep someone else from ending up like you," says Acacia. "Now shut up." She turns to the sink. Myrtle watches in fascination as she bends over and hisses at the snake engraving.

"_Open."_

She slides down the chute, lands with a crackle on top of little animal bones, and makes her way down the tunnel - past a giant, newly shed Basilisk skin - and to the doors with the serpents on them.

"_Open," _she hisses again, and she enters the Chamber beyond.

Wand out, she walks down, down the Chamber... until she spots Ginny, lying cold and still on the damp stone floor. Acacia rushes forward, kneels down beside her, checks her pulse. The heartbeat is faint, but there. Ginny appears to be dying. It's as if the life is draining out of her.

Acacia looks around - and there's Tom Riddle, tall and dark-haired, stepping out from behind a pillar, a weird, misty light shining around his form. He can't be older than sixteen. He also seems to be getting more and more solid.

"You're draining the life out of her so you can take human form," Acacia realizes, her tone harsh.

Tom Riddle smiles, his own wand out between his fingers. Acacia wonders if it will work effectively when it's not any more solid than he is. "Very good," he compliments her, smiling slightly. "How do you know so much about me?"

"You lured me down here to ask me _that_?"

"How did you know it was a lure?" His smile is slowly widening.

"You could have just killed Ginny any time you wanted," says Acacia. "I take it she's the one you've been possessing all year." It all makes sense now - Lucius Malfoy gave Ginny Weasley one of her books back in Flourish and Blotts. "You didn't have to make such a big show of it. You knew I'd come after you."

"You, the great investigator," says Tom. "And yet you came alone?"

"I thought it might be more appropriate," says Acacia, standing, thrusting her chin up. "I have the advantage here, Tom. I know things you don't."

"Oh, I don't think I'd agree you have the advantage, young Acacia," says Tom in amusement. "I do have Slytherin's monster, after all... That was actually what I was planning on threatening you with to get information..."

Tom's eyes narrow as Acacia smiles. "Alright, then," she says. "Call it."

Tom pauses, and then says, "Your wish is my command." He turns to the statue and hisses. _"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."_

And from out of the depths of the statue's mouth uncoils the great Basilisk. Acacia closes her eyes - she can hear it slithering heavily closer - she can hear Tom hissing at it to kill her -

She channels the magic of her Horcrux - who is exasperated by what a close shave this will be - and suddenly hisses, "_Stop."_

The snake pauses - and stops.

"_Go back inside," _she orders it.

And, quite docilely, the snake turns around and slithers back into its cave. Acacia opens her eyes and turns around to Tom, who is for the first time completely caught off guard. His eyes are wide, and a hungry look has come into them.

"How did you do that?" he asks quickly. "Only I can do that. How - what _are _you? How do you know so much? How did you survive the great Lord Voldemort? I recognized the name; I'd already started using it amongst friends in school! How did you do the things you can do?"

"Well, now, those are different questions." Acacia smiles pleasantly, putting her hands behind her back. "Let's start with how I survived. You entered my parents' house and murdered them. My mother died standing in front of me. In doing so, she invoked an ancient kind of protective magic: your older self could not touch me. So, of course, when your magic hit me, it deflected.

"Now, it hit you, and you lost your body. The fragment of soul remaining inside your body ran away." Tom's face has twisted. "But your soul was so broken, had been ripped apart so many times in an effort to achieve immortality, that when the Killing Curse hit your soul, a fraction broke away from the rest. It floated around, and then entered the nearest available opening: the scar in my forehead."

Tom's face has gone very still. His eyes are round with wonder.

Acacia smirks. _"I'm like your book, Tom," _she hisses. _"I'm a Horcrux."_

For perhaps the first time in his life, Tom Riddle has been struck speechless. She sees fear pass across his face - fear - anger - hunger - wonder - fondness - he doesn't seem to know _what _to feel.

Acacia starts giggling. "See?" she says. "You're so surprised! So if you kill me - you'll be killing _you_!" She laughs louder. Tom looks angry, his hands clenching and unclenching, but he's helpless. "Oh, you've been helping me with all sorts of things. Wandless magic, spells, enchantments, potions... I have a rather fascinating Seer's connection... Your older self doesn't know, of course.

"Let's see? That's about it, I think. Oh. One more thing."

Acacia points her wand at Tom, and her expression darkens. "I'm not letting you kill Ginny Weasley."

"... Why _not_?" Tom asks disbelievingly.

Acacia sighs. "Because as much as it pains me to admit it, I'm a compassionate, emotionally functional human being, Tom, and I really don't support all this killing Muggleborns business."

At this, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, lets out a musical cry and in a burst of fire, he alights warm and steady on her shoulder. Dumbledore knows, then, that the confrontation has happened.

"That's a phoenix," says Tom, looking at it shrewdly.

"Good spotting," says Acacia coldly. "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"I'm not stopping," says Tom.

"Yes, you are," Acacia disagrees.

"Then I'm afraid we have no choice -"

"Yes, really, none -"

And they each shout out a spell. The spells connect in midair - and something miraculous happens. The two competing colors form into a long ribbon of gold, connecting between them, the faint song cry of a phoenix reaching Acacia's ears. The ribbon is very warm, and their wands start rattling with the pressure of it...

_What's going on? _she asks her Tom quickly.

_I don't know - The wands! _he realizes at the last second. _They're mates. They won't fight each other... _His tone is full of wonder.

So Acacia takes a chance. She breaks the connection suddenly, the gold light fades, and as it's fading and Tom is standing there caught off guard, she runs straight at him and knocks him over. They struggle for a moment - he's winning because he's bigger so she kicks him in between the legs and he yelps - with a rattle something falls out of Acacia's pocket - She looks around wildly and sees the fragment of red Stone, crystallizing from the cold - Fawkes lands next to it in a burst of fire - The red stone melts into liquid, splashing all over both of them...

And then a great rattling of its own begins in Acacia's mind - a kind of vibration - she closes her eyes and puts her hands over her ears, trying to block it out - there's a burst of terrible, burning pain in her scar -

And when she blinks and opens her eyes, blinking through the pain, she looks up, and up... Into the face of a tall man in his twenties. He's handsome, dark hair falling into his dark eyes. He looks, in fact, like an older version of Tom Riddle...

She reaches out tentatively, through her scar, across the mental connection she feels between them - The mind feels like her Tom's, but younger, and perhaps more emotional -

... _Tom? _she asks, wonderingly.

He smiles a little, and returns the long wand to a pocket of his robes.

_The very same, _he confirms.

Her Tom and the Tom from the diary have become one, and the Stone has revived them into a new person.

* * *

"So you have all your memories," she says, still awestruck, reaching up to touch his face...

"Yes. And all _his_, too. It's - rather disconcerting, actually." Her Tom squints through his headache.

"We're going to need a name for you, at least for now," says Acacia. "What about Nathaniel? I've always rather liked Nathaniel. Nathaniel -"

"Gaunt." He shrugs in explanation at her surprised look. "It was my witch mother's maiden name. The line's died out.

"But you're forgetting something." He smiles a little and points behind her. "See?"

The color is back in Ginny's face. She's blinking, sitting upright, startled awake... She turns around, and sees Acacia, and begins sobbing.

"Oh, Acacia - I'm sorry - I'm sorry - it was me - it was me - he _tricked _me -"

"Shh. It's okay," says Acacia, awkwardly but fondly, as Ginny is clutching at the front of her robes. "I know you didn't mean to do it. I destroyed the spirit in the diary, you're safe now. Look, Dumbledore's phoenix even came to get you with me." Fawkes has landed with a musical cry on Acacia's shoulder.

Ginny looks up, smiling, sniffling. Then she blinks and stares at Tom. "Who's _that_?"

"Er - his name's Gaunt," says Acacia, smiling forcibly as she looks back over her shoulder. "He came to help, too -"

"In place of Professor Lockhart, who's out of commission," says Tom helpfully. "I'm the new Defense TA."

"Yes, exactly!" says Acacia, beaming. "Now, come on, let's get you out of here."

She helps Ginny stand, and with Fawkes sweeping along ahead of them, lighting their way, the four of them leave the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

Ginny has started crying by the time they are up in the main part of the castle. She keeps moaning that she'll be expelled, and her Mum and Dad will be upset with her. Acacia smiles uncomfortably and can see Tom resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently, Tom never really grew fond of Ginny.

_She's always whining, _he complains. _It's so boring._

_You can be such an emotionless jerk. Go a little easy on her, she's eleven._

_You're twelve. It's still no excuse._

They follow Fawkes, all the way to Professor McGonagall's office. They walk inside, only to find Mr and Mrs Weasley standing there with Professor McGonagall and... Professor Dumbledore.

Mrs Weasley rushes forward with a cry and sweeps her daughter up into her arms, but Professor McGonagall is staring, pale, and Professor Dumbledore is looking piercingly at: Tom Riddle.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley," says Dumbledore at last, sharply. "I'm so sorry. Could you please leave us for a moment?"

The Weasleys, clutching their tearful daughter, hurry outside. There is a heavy silence in the office for a moment. Tom and Dumbledore watch each other cautiously across the distance.

"Minerva," says Tom at last, nodding coldly and unsmilingly to Professor McGonagall - who must have attended Hogwarts with him.

"Tom," she says, clutching her chest in shock.

Acacia clears her throat and steps forward. "Perhaps I can explain," she says. And she talks. And talks. And _talks. _

She takes them all the way back to the beginning, to her mental connection with a man she thought was the spirit of her magic, to their emerging friendship, to her realization of who he was, to the way he put himself on the line for her and their conversation about love and how it manifested itself in people. She talks about how she and the spirit teamed up to defend Hogwarts twice from other manifestations of Voldemort, about the way he lent her power and shielded her from harm, about his promise not to kill anyone she didn't want him to, about her own promise to help him. She talks about his reassessing view of Muggleborns through Hermione, and she gives every detail of what happened down in the Chamber - from the younger Tom's fascination with her, through their battle, to the moment when the two Toms fused together with Fawkes' help over the remnants of the Philosopher's Stone. She reveals the lie they have told Ginny, that Nathaniel Gaunt is the new Defense TA at Hogwarts School. And, of course, she puts Ginny in the clear by saying she was possessed by a Horcrux.

Dumbledore has sat back, his hands steepled, his eyes a piercing blue. Fawkes has reunited himself on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore looks over at Fawkes at the end. "Phoenixes are wise creatures, you know," says Dumbledore at last. "It is hard to gain their trust. They have a very intuitive sort of magic."

He goes back to assessing Tom.

"You say you two are still connected." It takes Acacia a moment to realize Dumbledore is addressing her.

"Yes, sir," says Acacia.

"And you believe you would be able to stop him if he tried to do anything terrible?" Tom's eyes narrow.

"Of course, sir, I would feel it," answers Acacia.

Dumbledore takes a deep breath. "Let me ask you, Tom. Would you be willing to fight with us against your other self, should he return?"

"Of course. In my quest to remain dominant over the other pieces of myself, I would be willing to oblige." Tom gives a snake-like smile. "Besides, he wants to kill Acacia. And my personal feelings about that aside, that of course might still kill -"

"You." Dumbledore nods, still frowning. "Yes, I see.

"... Very well," says Dumbledore. "I would be willing to go along with the lie on a trial basis -"

"You can't be serious, Dumbledore, the boy was Dark even at Hogwarts -" says McGonagall incredulously.

Dumbledore raises a hand for silence. "No one," he rumbles sharply, "who wasn't at school with Tom Riddle should recognize you as Lord Voldemort. That automatically takes all or most of your followers out of the running - however, it does not disinclude certain members of my staff. The staff will have to be informed of your true identity."

Tom nods cautiously...

"With that said," says Dumbledore, "if you wish, you may... stay on at Hogwarts, as Defense TA. It's what you've always wanted. Even as a boy, yes?"

And so an agreement is come to.

* * *

Mr and Mrs Weasley are let back inside, and what happened to Ginny is explained to them, making it seem like the diary was a Dark object acting on its own and was later destroyed. Mr Weasley starts scolding a crying Ginny, but Dumbledore intercedes and says Ginny should be taken to the hospital wing. There will be no punishment for her, as she was not acting to her own will.

"As a matter of fact, Hermione and Colin should be awaking right now," says Dumbledore, smiling. "The Mandrake Restorative Draught is being administered."

"How's Lockhart, sir?" asks Acacia.

"Well, he's in St Mungo's with severe head trauma," says Dumbledore, "so we'll need a new Defense teacher again. Surprise, surprise. I'll just pretend you didn't ask me when no student is yet supposed to know. I'll also pretend the look of severe delight on your face was not mirrored by the expressions of my staff.

"However, Rubeus Hagrid will be returning. There's no reason why he should stay away now. I'll have to write to Azkaban...

"Oh, and Professor McGonagall," he says, "why don't you go into the kitchens and ask the house elves to put on a feast? I think this all calls for a celebration."

"Of course," says Professor McGonagall, and she files out behind the Weasleys. Now, only Dumbledore, Acacia, and Tom are left in McGonagall's office.

Acacia goes to open her mouth, but Dumbledore puts up a hand. He waits. About half a minute later, Lucius Malfoy comes bursting through the door, his hair disheveled, Dobby bobbing apologetically around his ankles still trying to polish his other shoe.

So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," says Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too... Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy becomes even paler than usual, but his eyes are still slits of fury.

"So - have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneers. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"I did," says Acacia, stepping forward, smiling angrily. Lucius pauses, staring at her in surprise. "And I have proof - certain proof - that you're the one who planted Lord Voldemort's old diary on Ginny Weasley."

Lucius Malfoy's face goes white. "... You don't have proof," he whispers, furious. "You're bluffing."

"Oh, but I do," says Acacia, still smiling. "And I also happen to know that you've been hiding some very valuable Dark objects under your drawing room floor. So, what we'd like is: we'd like certain things in exchange for not going public with that information. Dumbledore?" Acacia turns to him, mock thoughtfully. "What would you like in return for not ruining Lucius Malfoy's life?"

"Well," says Dumbledore, smiling, "I would like him to sign a binding magical contract saying he'll become a spy for us in case of the wildly unlikely return of Lord Voldemort. And a binding promise that no more Dark objects will find themselves in the hands of Hogwarts students."

"That sounds great!" says Acacia. "And _I _would like -" She points at the pitiful Dobby and smirks. "Ownership of his house elf. I would like him to hand over Dobby's rights to _me_."

Dobby looks up, hardly daring to believe, hopeful...

Lucius Malfoy's face works furiously. Once, his hand twitches toward his wand, but then a throat clears behind him and he realizes both Dumbledore and the sharp-eyed wizard in the corner have their hands on their wands.

"_Fine_!" he spits at last, and does the necessary magical paperwork. He storms to the door, and then turns around. "You were Sorted into the correct house, Miss Potter," he says. "But be careful of the _very _dangerous game you are playing."

He walks out, slamming the door behind him.

Acacia looks down at Dobby, and smiles. "So, Dobby," she says, because Dobby is looking like all his hopes and dreams have come true at once, "you turned out to be right. And now you get to come home with me and Mary. What would you like?"

"What would _Dobby _like?" Dobby asks wonderingly.

"That's right. What's in Dobby's _wildest_ hopes and dreams?" Acacia spreads her arms wide.

"N-not to be hurt anymore in punishment, Miss?" says Dobby.

"You've got it."

"And... and payment? For work?"

"I think we can do that," says Acacia, pretending to consider it. "In exchange, Dobby, I'm going to need you to work hard for me. Think you can do that?"

"Yes - yes, Miss -" And then Dobby bursts into tears.

* * *

There is a wildly spectacular feast in the Great Hall, with Hagrid and Ginny and all the revived students in their midst, and final exams are canceled as a school treat. There's much cheering and hugging and congratulating and disbelieving shouting. It's chaotic and amazing and it lasts all night.

"Hey, who's that?" asks Draco Malfoy, nudging Acacia once and pointing across the table at the calm and vaguely amused dark-haired man sitting in their midst.

"Oh..." Acacia smiles, and they share a look. "Just someone I picked up along the way."

_How's having food again? _she asks him. He toasts her in response, smiling.

The rest of the year passes in a blaze of sunshine. Pansy, Millie, and Draco approach a surprised and pleased Hermione and thank her for saving them. Lucius Malfoy is sacked as school governor. Nathaniel Gaunt is announced as the new Defense TA for next year, and none of the staff trust him; that's something he'll have to earn. Everyone is happy and healthy again.

Too soon, it's time to take the Hogwarts Express back to London. Acacia says goodbye to Tom, who'll be staying at Hogwarts - it'll be strange without him.

"We'll talk together every night," she says. And then she surprises him by leaping forward and hugging him.

Tom pats her on the head awkwardly, obviously not used to hugging, and calls her a confusing child. But he's smiling as he says it.

Then it's time in the compartment with her friends, lots of people coming and going, and then she's back in London with her trunk and owl. Her mind is quiet and free - but this time, for a happy reason, it's very nice. She enfolds herself in Mary's warm arms, and Mary smiles down at her.

"I'm so proud of you," she says. "Ready to go home?" Acacia nods.

"Dobby is ready to go home, too, ma'am!" squeaks a little voice near their feet, and Acacia and Mary look down to find Dobby in a Hogwarts tea towel with a little suitcase standing beside their feet.

"A house elf, of all things," says Mary, shaking her head wonderingly. "No more cleaning the house. I'm going to have to find other things to do this summer..."


	18. Book Three

_Chapter One: Move In Day_

Acacia's thirteenth summer starts off well. She keeps up by owl with all her Hogwarts friends. She gets all her homework finished, including a Potions essay about shrinking solutions and a long and rather nasty essay for History of Magic about medieval witch burnings.

(Evading witch burnings for real, adult witches and wizards was almost laughably easy, and their official textbook paints them to be a kind of joke. But Acacia knows from people like Tom and Draco that many magical children who could not defend themselves died at the hands of Muggles, and this was what brought about both the separation between wizard and Muggle worlds and the widespread wizarding resentment of Muggles. Several more conservative wizards have voiced serious concerns about the fact that this information is taken out of the official magical education curriculum.)

For her thirteenth birthday, she and her godmother Mary spend two weeks in Spain, sightseeing and soaking up the summer sunshine. Acacia swims in the ocean and tans on the beach, exploring many old buildings and Churches, both wizarding and Muggle. She takes moving photographs everywhere. (For the wizarding tours, she wears robes, but for the Muggle tours she wears an ivory tank top and a cute little pair of jean shorts.)

Acacia's thirteenth birthday is also noteworthy because her godmother finally lets her wear makeup. Acacia has fun experimenting with a wide variety of colors and shades. For lip makeup, she likes cinnamons, deep reds, and bronzes; almonds for blush; olives and toffees for eye makeup. She pins her red hair up behind her so her face can be seen, showing off a little. She also starts wearing Black Opium, a kind of exotic, peppery perfume she got for Valentines Day last year.

They're lucky in that they manage to avoid being recognized for most of the trip. A Spanish reporter does catch them once and asks Acacia in broken English how she likes Spain. She says she loves it, smiles for the picture, and keeps walking.

She's not the only one who's in for a treat this summer. She sees in the Daily Prophet that the Weasleys, a poor family, won the paper's grand prize Galleon draw and used it on a trip to Egypt. A picture of the nine of them in front of a pyramid, with Ron's pet rat on his shoulder, appears in the Prophet. Acacia is glad for them. Ginny needs to put last year behind her.

Acacia's Hogwarts letter comes the day after she gets back from Spain. Third years and above are allowed to visit Hogsmeade Village as long as their guardian signs their permission slip, which Mary happily signs and sends back off with Hedwig, Acacia's snowy owl. Third year is when they start taking extra elective classes, too, and when their core classes start getting intermediate. And they're teenagers now, with two years of magic under their belt. Acacia's mind is now her own, free from the spirit so long held inside it. Things are looking up. Everything changes in third year.

Acacia is excited. She can't wait to get started.

* * *

Acacia and Mary are sitting at the kitchen table one morning as Dobby brings them omelettes, with extra cheese and chive.

"Thank you, Dobby," says Acacia cheerfully as he puts the plate down in front of her. Dobby started crying again the first time she thanked him for a service, but he's gotten over that by now, which is a good thing because having Dobby crying over everything was emotionally exhausting.

"Thanks, Dobby," says Mary absently, because at that moment an owl comes flying through the open window. She takes the newspaper from it and puts a coin in the little bag attached to its leg. The owl flies away again.

Mary opens the newspaper up, and gasps. She clutches her chest and her face goes white.

"What is it?" Acacia asks immediately, running around the table to look. She half expects to see that Lord Voldemort has returned, but what she does find is almost as terrible.

_SIRIUS BLACK HAS ESCAPED_

_ Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban Prison, has escaped. He is now on the loose and his whereabouts are unknown. _

_ As most wizards and witches know, Sirius Black is infamous for betraying the Potters to You Know Who during the last Blood War. He is almost equally infamous for blowing up his friend Peter Pettigrew alongside thirteen Muggles in a Muggle street, which the Ministry for Magic had to blame to Muggle authorities on a gas explosion. Black was laughing as he was taken away to Azkaban, and has remained there for the last twelve years._

_ A manhunt for Black has already started up and down the country, but so far to this reporter's knowledge nothing has come of it. The Muggle authorities will be notified, and told Black is armed with a gun. Black is cunning and cruel, and if seen he should not be approached._

_ The question on everyone's minds now is: Where is Acacia Potter? And is she safe?_

Acacia stares into the moving picture below the article. It shows a man with waxen skin and long, wild dark hair. His eyes are sunken and dead.

"Azkaban has not been kind to him," says Mary, frowning. "He used to smile all the time. He used to be handsome. Not that I suppose he's had much to smile about - not since You Know Who's fall."

"What are we going to do?" Acacia asks.

"We should wait for Dumbledore," says Mary, and for once she looks lost. "I have no idea what to do about this..."

About half an hour later, Tom contacts her through their mental link. _As personally disgusting as I find the idea, _says Tom, _Dumbledore wants you to temporarily stay with your Muggle aunt and uncle under the blood wards until your time has come to go to Hogwarts._

_It's because of Black, isn't it?_

_You had to ask?_

_Did Black really used to work for your other self?_

_I never came face to face with Black... But that doesn't necessarily mean he wasn't helping the real spy, Peter Pettigrew. And, of course, it doesn't change the fact that he killed thirteen Muggles. The Blacks are a very old, typically very Dark family. It's an odd situation..._

_So Black might not be after me at all? He might have just killed Pettigrew because he betrayed us, and then killed everyone else besides? Wow. That shows an impressive disregard for life equal to yours, Tom._

_You're being sarcastic, but I choose to take that as a compliment. In any case, it's not like we can use my testimony - not without revealing who I once was. And even I am unsure as to Black's intentions. Especially after twelve years in Azkaban, he's a wild card. Why escape now? Best to be on your guard._

* * *

The Dursleys' house is large, white, and suburban. It's in an all-Muggle residential area, so everyone has to dress in Muggle clothes to transport Acacia's things there. Dumbledore wears a purple suit, Tom a black one, and Acacia and Mary are clothed in more casual Muggle dress.

The Dursleys consists of a thin, shrewish-looking blonde woman - Acacia's Aunt Petunia - and her husband, a massive man with a mustache named Vernon, and her son, an equally massive blond boy named Dudley. They stand in the living room and watch distrustfully and coldly as Acacia's suitcases full of things are moved back and forth up the stairs to the spare bedroom.

"They could at least have cleaned it out for you," says Tom in distaste, as they shove Dudley's old, broken things into corners of the room. The room had obviously been used for storage.

A green Ministry car pulls up about halfway through the day. Out of it steps the Minister for Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge. He wears a pinstriped suit with a scarlet tie. His cloak is black, his boots are purple, and the bowler hat over his grey hair is lime green. He looks pale and tired.

"Excellent to meet you, Miss Potter." He rushes forward and shakes her hand. "Nasty business, this. We'll get him caught in no time, don't you worry. This won't be necessary for long."

"Thank you, Minister," says Acacia uncomfortably, taking the proffered hand. Fudge goes on to shake her godmother's hand, and then her aunt's and uncle's. Petunia and Vernon glare at the offending hand, not taking it, looking positively alarmed.

Fudge clears his throat and lowers the hand, looking away. "Marvelous," he says, smiling awkwardly through his flushed face. He moves his hat between his fingers, bouncing on his heels and looking generally around the place. "Simply marvelous."

What, exactly, is marvelous, Acacia is not sure. The Dursleys certainly don't appear to agree with him.

Before Mary leaves, she hugs her goddaughter and they say their goodbyes. "Remember," says Mary, "call Dobby and he'll just pop right in and gather what's going on. He can hear every time you call for him."

"We will be in touch," rumbles Dumbledore, "and we expect to hear that she's treated well."

Tom fingers his wand, smiling coldly and looking directly at them. The Dursleys shiver and do not meet his eye.

Then everyone's tromped out, shutting the door behind them. Acacia turns around to the Dursleys. Dudley looks curious, but his parents look _extremely _distrustful.

Acacia thought she'd been doing well, too, until she met them. She's dressed in a sweater and a short skirt, a perfectly normal Muggle thing to wear. Her hair is tied up messily behind her. She looks impressively ordinary.

"... _You," _says Petunia at last, her face twisting. "You look just like _her_."

_Ah. So there's the problem. _

"I heard you didn't get along with my Mum," says Acacia cautiously. "I'd like to get along with you, if I could." Petunia just glares at her.

Vernon puffs himself up as if to make himself look more intimidating, and walks over, glaring down into her face. "Now, look, you," he says, poking her in the chest with a fat finger. "We don't like your freak people and you should know that right up front. We won't be having you embarrass us. My sister's coming over to visit, and then there's the neighbors to worry about.

"So we'll be locking all of your... _freak _things into a cupboard during your stay here, and you won't be having any of them!" Acacia's eyes widen. "You are not to talk about magic to anyone. And you'll be earning your keep here, so we'll be having you doing the chores. The house needs cleaning and the dinners will need cooking, and Petunia shouldn't have to do any of that when she's gracious enough to be taking you in! So -"

But at last, Acacia has whipped out a wand and pointed it into his face, her eyes narrowed dangerously. Vernon stutters to a halt, as Petunia screams and Dudley gasps.

"Touch my stuff or demand me to do _anything, _and I'll curse you," she promises, her tone deadly.

"You - you wouldn't -" Vernon stammers out, his face flushed.

"Try me," snaps Acacia. She can't, of course, do anything in a Muggle residence without breaking the law, but they don't have to know that. "And on top of that, here's something else." And this time, she's not lying. "I have an elf who calls me his mistress. I can speak his name anywhere in the world and he will appear there immediately, to come and find me. And he has magic of his own. And even if _his _magic isn't enough to end you, he can go find my fairy godmother and Albus Dumbledore, and _they _can curse you.

"So, if it's all the same to you, I won't be doing any of that, thanks. Here's how this is going to work." She's breathing heavily with emotion. "You will be paid for my keep. I will keep to my own room and will not talk to the neighbors. You won't touch a _single goddamn one _of my things, and I won't do a _single fucking thing _for you!"

"You dare to curse at me, you filthy little -!" Vernon snarls, his hands opening and closing as if wanting to hit her, but with the long and intimidating black wand in his face he seems to know better than to move any closer to her. "We didn't want people like _you _in the house in the first place!"

"You think I like it any better, being here?!" Acacia shouts. "You think I like having to leave the woman who raised me?! D'you I _enjoy _the idea of moving into a house where I'm cut off from my own world and the dishes don't wash themselves?!"

There's a moment of heavy silence as the two parties glare at one another.

"... You can make the dishes wash themselves?" Acacia stares over in surprise at a guarded Petunia, who had just spoken. Acacia smirks and snorts bitterly. "Not without getting into trouble," she says. "This isn't considered a 'magical' abode, not until it has a Floo connection, and I can't actually make my magic do things for you in a 'non-magical' abode. Well, I mean, I can, but I'd get in trouble. I can only use magic to protect myself." This last part is half a lie. She'd still have to face a trial if she did magic to protect herself in a Muggle area, but supposedly the jury would find her 'not guilty.'

"What's a Floo connection?" The son, Dudley, the curious and non-hostile one - he's the one who just spoke.

"It's like a weird crossover between a telephone and a car," is the best way Acacia can explain it. "You put Floo powder in a fire in the fireplace. It turns the fire green, and then the fire won't burn you if you touch it. You can step into it, and ask it to take you places, and it will - as long as the other place is also connected to the Floo network."

"Bizarre," says Vernon definitively. "Completely barmy."

"Oh, like your world's so much saner," says Acacia, rolling her eyes. "You put oil in two tons of steel on wheels and the oil rolls you forward."

Vernon's eyes narrow. "Watch it, girl." But some of the fire has gone out of his rage.

"So you grew up in the wizarding world?" Dudley asks. He seems fascinated.

Acacia nods. "I was raised by my Godmum," she says. "Her name's Mary. Her parents were Muggles, too. The only reason I know anything about Muggles is because she used to take us into the nearby Muggle village and teach me."

"Muggles?"

"Non magical people," says Acacia.

"So, what are we going to tell my sister?" Vernon shifts his weight, watching her suspiciously.

Acacia shrugs. "We can just tell her the Muggle version of the truth," she says. "My parents were in the military. They were stationed in a rural area and that's where I was born. They died when I was very young; a criminal broke into the house and shot them. I was taken in and raised by my godmother. We can just lie and say I'm here because she's ill in the hospital. She was a few years ago. It's not that farfetched."

"So, your people... they get ill, do they?" Vernon asks.

"Not with the same kinds of diseases," says Acacia, "but yes."

"Lily wasn't in the military." Petunia has spoken up at last. Everyone turns to her in surprise. Her face has paled, her eyes dark and certain. "Lily wasn't in the military."

"... There was a war," says Acacia quietly after a moment. "There was someone who wanted to kill all Muggles. Lily fought against him. She was protecting people like... well, people like _you_." She smiles coldly as Petunia's eyes widen. Petunia sits down slowly on the couch.

"I just... I didn't know things were that bad," Petunia admits after a moment, and right then she seems more frail, more human. Then: "The man she fought against - he killed them, didn't he?"

"Yes," says Acacia, watching her warily.

"Well, of course, getting mixed up with these wizarding types," says Vernon blusteringly. "Something bad's bound to happen -"

"We're not all like that," says Acacia quietly. "We're human. Just like you."

She turns back to the Dursleys.

"My parents weren't awful people," she says. "And neither am I. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go up to my new room."

* * *

Vernon and Petunia seem to deem it best to pretend Acacia doesn't exist. She's fed and allowed to use the bathroom, and other than that she's left to her own devices. This suits her just fine. She keeps to her new bedroom, as she promised, and writes often with Hedwig to Mary, whom she sorely misses.

An unexpected intrusion is Dudley. He comes into the room all the time, wanting to know what things are and how things work, so - amused - she explains things to him. She wonders what his parents would say if they could see their son being interested in the wizarding world.

Dudley also flirts with her - rather badly and rather aggressively. The fact that he's her cousin aside, and the fact that he's extremely fat aside, his flirting's crass and low-brow enough that she's not really interested. Sometimes she'll tell him to get off of her and he still won't go away, so once she says at last:

"Hey, Dudley?" Her tone is calm.

"Hm?" He smirks, very close to her, his hand on her ass.

"I'm going to tell you about a spell."

"Sounds great." He grins.

"It takes all the boogers in your nose -"

"Er -"

"And pushes them back inside your head -"

"Erm -"

"And then pulls them out, taking all the nose tissue with them -"

"Uh -"

"And that is what I am going to do to you if you do not get your hand off my ass."

Dudley looks suspicious, but he takes his hand away.

When Acacia's not spending time in her room, she catches either the Daze Bus or the Knight Bus into the London Alleys, where she buys new school robes, potions ingredients, astronomy equipment, her new textbooks, and a brand-new racing broom, the Firebolt, which had just come out. This last buy isn't strictly necessary, but she's feeling sorry for herself on account of the Dursleys and so she splurges. If she runs out of trust fund money, she always has more in the Potter family account. Perhaps this isn't a very nice way to look at things, she admits to herself, but the new Firebolt does feel very good in her hand.

There are two wizarding bus lines in England, one for day and one for night. Both buses are triple decker and violently purple, and they appear when a wizard holds out their wand arm and stands on a street corner. The insides of the buses are staffed with armchairs, and with lunch tables (for day) and brass bedsteads (for night). The buses can move across the country alarmingly quickly, jumping from one neighborhood to another with vicious BANGS.

Stan and Ernie staff the Knight Bus, and Wimple and Totty staff the Daze Bus. The bus drivers like for her to sit near the front so they can pester her with questions. Well aware Black's on the loose, one of them always walks in with her to the Leaky Cauldron, and from there she's surrounded by so many other wizards it would be a miracle if she were abducted successfully.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter Two: Energy Suckers of Varying Sorts_

Acacia goes down to the Dursleys' pristine kitchen for breakfast one morning. She had just finished having a long conversation with Tom last night. He checks in on her every night now, knowing how mentally taxing it can be for a witch or wizard - especially a child witch or wizard - to exist for so long in a world that is not theirs.

_The people at my orphanage hated me, _he explains darkly. _I know what it is to be hated._

She tries to pretend everything's alright, but he seems worried about her. The Dursleys aren't exactly... the friendliest sorts.

At last, Vernon drains his cup of tea and gets heavily to his feet. "I'm off to pick up Marge from the station," he says. He's talking about his sister. "Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

Dudley refuses and leaves the room quickly before his mother and father can baby him again in front of his cousin. Dudley has, in fact, refrained from doing a great many things in front of Acacia. These things include crying, complaining, and acting spoiled, which Acacia is almost certain he is at least a little.

"How far away does Marge live?" Acacia asks as Vernon walks out.

"She lives out in the country," says Petunia with pursed lips. The Dursleys live in a Surrey suburb; Acacia, on the other hand, was raised out amid open space.

"Oh, excellent," she says, pleased. "So we'll have things to talk about."

"Perhaps. She breeds bulldogs. She'll be bringing one with her." Petunia does not seem particularly pleased at this thought. Her tone is reserved.

All too soon, there is a crunch of gravel outside and Petunia, Acacia, and Dudley are standing dutifully in the entryway by the door. There is the clunk of the car door, footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the doo - Oh, never mind, knowing you you'll just do it with magic," snaps Petunia, rushing by Acacia irritably to get the door. Acacia smirks as she's passed by. And they say she and her aunt don't know each other.

The door is thrown open and there stands Marge. She's as large as Vernon, and has quite a collection of facial hair growing between her eyebrows and along her upper lip. _If she's going for the She-Man look, she has it made. No wonder she isn't married. _Acacia scolds herself for being rude in her own head - even if Marge is a little bit funny. Tucked underneath Marge's arm is an extremely old bulldog.

"_Where's my Dudders?!" _ Marge has a comically deep voice. _"Where's my neffy-poo?!"_

Dudley waddles forward and Marge engulfs him in a giant hug, leaving money in his hand when she steps back again. Dudley looks down at the money and smirks.

Acacia - who had been admiring the awkwardness of familial affection and trying very admirably not to laugh - is addressed next. Marge turns to her, and her eyes narrow. "So," she says, "it's you. The orphan girl."

Acacia smiles coldly. "Yes," she says firmly, "that would be me."

"Don't you be rude to me," snaps Marge, all army drill sergeant. "How do you spell your name? What is it again?"

"Acacia, ma'am. Uh-Cay-Shuh. A-C-A-C-I-A."

Marge glares. "What kind of a name is that?"

"It's a tree," says Acacia in mild exasperation. "A plant. My parents thought it would be fitting, considering my mother's name was Lily and my aunt's is Petunia."

"Hmph. Sounds newfangled and ridiculous to me," says Marge.

"Exactly what I said," agrees Petunia smoothly.

"And your parents - military, weren't they?" Marge demands.

"Yes," agrees Acacia, making an effort to keep smiling through her growing annoyance. "They were killed by a criminal who broke into their house -"

"And shot them, yes. Despicable. The whole world's gone to pot," mutters Marge. "You make your parents proud, do you hear? No more of that smiling over their deaths!" She points at Acacia. "What's your godmother, what's she do?"

"Nurse," Acacia says, which is partly true. Mary did used to be a Healer. "She's sick, currently." She tries to look suitably sad and contrite.

"But she raised you right?" Marge asks.

"Well... I get good grades at my boarding school and have several perfectly well adjusted friends?" Acacia replies questioningly.

Vernon snorts. Clearly he doesn't see any wizards or witches as "well adjusted."

But Marge has moved on. Apparently, Acacia passed inspection.

"Petunia!" Marge goes over and bumps cheeks with her sister in law.

* * *

Marge, Acacia decides over the next few days, is a very odd woman. She wants Acacia constantly around, twenty-four seven, so she can make sure Acacia is doing things like "acting appropriately womanly" and "seeming grateful enough." She doesn't like Acacia doing things like proving she has opinions or sticking up for herself, but she appreciates how feminine Acacia is in her dress and compliments her on "always having a smile on her face." Acacia plays the part of the shy flower, and aside from finding this rather amusing, it has the added benefit of helping her get along with her relatives.

Once, Marge insists that she, Petunia, and Acacia all make a big dinner together. Acacia, who has some experience with cooking from Potions class, potters along okay enough, despite Aunt Petunia's initial misgivings. Marge keeps sneaking in brandy until by the end of the meal, she's laughing loud and roaring drunk. This, Acacia learns, is normal behavior for Aunt Marge.

Marge likes to give her opinions about things. She is a strong advocate of political incorrectness and hitting people who deserve it, and her chief annoyances seem to be Black people and homosexuals. She and Vernon spend long evenings complaining together about things, including the bank and the government. Despite being deeply unhealthy and needing a cane to walk, she considers herself an expert on human health, and often criticizes people she deems "stupid and unhealthy."

Equally hard to please is Marge's dog, Ripper. Ripper likes everything just so. If his tea isn't warmed for him and put in a saucer, and his water isn't cleaned every half hour or so, and his food isn't just a certain brand and a certain flavor, and he isn't walked at least once a day, he gets very snotty. This takes the form of Ripper growling at passing people and trying to bite the offending owners who were foolish enough to forget his preferences in the first place.

Marge, of course, always takes Ripper's side.

On the last night, over a fancy dinner and wine, Marge compliments Acacia on being "very pretty. But she has a head, this one. You'd better watch out, Petunia. You've always got to watch out for the ones with heads. Nevertheless, she has all the makings to turn out a perfectly alright woman, with the right guidance."

Acacia just sits there and looks pretty and smiles, because that's what Marge likes to see.

"She even got Ripper to like her," says Marge in satisfaction. "Ripper never likes anyone."

* * *

The Dursleys are in for an unpleasant surprise. When Marge leaves, Acacia just goes right back to being like her usual self. She half expects them to get angry with her for lying to Marge, but instead Vernon compliments her on her "good act."

"Now if only you could manage it the rest of the time," he grumbles.

On the day before September first, Acacia goes to tell her aunt and uncle she'll be leaving tomorrow. "How are you getting there?" Vernon asks, reluctantly.

"I'm taking the bus up to the train station," she says, and then rolls her eyes at their surprised stares.

"Wizards have buses?" Vernon asks disbelievingly. "And train stations?"

"What do you think we are, backwards?" she asks, and walks away.

She's taking all her stuff with her, and hoping she never has to come back to this place.

* * *

There's a knock on her bedroom door late that night as she's packing. She looks up cautiously, curious, and says, "Come in."

Dudley shuffles in, shy and sheepish. He hands her a wrestling mag. Acacia takes it slowly and looks up at him in surprise. He's not looking at her. "Dudley?"

"You told me about your favorite sport," he mutters, blushing. "The flying thing. Well, that's mine. I like wrestling."

Acacia looks down at the magazine, and smiles a little. "You do, do you? I'll have to take a look at this during my time on the train."

She looks up at Dudley, who's still looking away gruffly, and thinks for a moment. Then she smiles and takes out her camera. "Here," she says. "Why don't we do this?" She puts the camera up, and takes a photo of the two of them. She clicks twice. Then she gives Dudley one of the print-out photos. "One for each of us."

Dudley looks down at the picture. They're moving around in the image. Acacia keeps smiling and nudging Dudley, who keeps looking away gruffly, smirking.

"I'll write to you while I'm at school," says Acacia. "Be on the lookout for an owl. Okay?"

"... Sounds good," says Dudley, smiling a little.

* * *

The night before her journey to Hogwarts, Acacia has another Seer's dream, of a rat retreating into the eye hole of a snake skull. She awakes feeling foreboding.

Why are all her Seer's dreams so morbid? Is it a kind of warning from her subconscious? She resolves to ask her new Divination professor.

On the morning of, she gets up early, and in the morning stillness she yanks her things with her out the door and down the front step. Breathing harshly, she looks back at the house. _It's been fun, _she thinks sarcastically, giving it a little salute, and then she sticks out her wand arm and the bus appears with a bang and a flash of lights.

The conductor helps her get her stuff all tucked away next to her armchair, and then the bus sets off again, toward Kings Cross. She grabs a nearby bar for purchase against the sudden shifts and shoves forward, and watches the world pass by out the window.

At Kings Cross, the bus conductor's nice enough to help her put her things on a trolley, which she wheels into the station and down to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. She looks around, casually leans through, and then she's on platform nine and three quarters and in more familiar magical territory.

She had written to Blaise, Daphne, and Draco, and they'd told each other where they'd be waiting. She picks up her friends - with Vince and Greg in tow for good measure - and then they push off down the platform to find an empty compartment. Acacia smiles and says hi to the people who greet her in passing, but she's really looking for someplace a little quieter...

She finds it at last. This compartment has only one person in it, a man, asleep beside the window. His robes are shabby, his face ill and tired, stubbled. His light brown hair is streaked grey.

"He looks like a hobo," says Draco.

"Draco dear," sighs Acacia, "that's actually how normal, slightly poor people look."

"God," says Draco, wrinkling his nose, "that must be awful." Vince and Greg snigger.

"You really haven't been prepared well for real life, have you, Draco?" Daphne asks. Vince and Greg stop sniggering and Blaise starts instead.

They settle into the compartment, and then the compartment door slides open and a little girl with a brown braid done up around her head is standing there.

"Who are you?" Draco asks rudely.

"I'm not here for you, you fucking wanker," says the little girl in a high voice, and she turns to Daphne. "You said to come and find you."

"This is my little sister, everyone," says Daphne, smiling serenely. "Astoria. This will be her first year at Hogwarts."

"I'm impressed by your vocabulary," Blaise says calmly, and Acacia can't tell if he's being serious. Draco is still scowling at Astoria.

"Can I sit with you?" Astoria asks, looking a little uncertain and first year-ish, and Daphne and Acacia agree over Draco's protests. Astoria and her black cat sit down with them, Astoria stroking it underneath her pale, unsmiling face.

Astoria turns to Acacia. "I'm sorry to hear about your godfather," she says matter of factly. She means Sirius.

Acacia smiles, though she's a little uncomfortable about hearing Sirius Black described in such terms. "Thanks," she says.

"What's been going on?" Blaise asks. "How are you?" He seems concerned, and so do the other conscious people in the compartment.

Acacia tells them about her time with the Dursleys.

"Fucking Muggles." Draco looks angry, but it's actually Vince who has spoken. Greg reaches over and pats her shoulder comfortingly.

"Oh, it was mostly just very awkward," says Acacia, smiling. "They were so full of themselves, and so full of 'helpful criticism.' I guess you can't choose your relatives."

"It sounds terrible," says Blaise dryly. "I've noticed you look a little paler and thinner than usual."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Daphne asks in concern.

"I'm better now," says Acacia, smiling fakely.

The ride has by now gotten underway. They're flicking past broad green fields full of cows and sheep.

"So who do you think he is?" Astoria asks, pointing at the man.

"Probably our new Defense teacher," Acacia guesses. "He looks exhausted." She thinks of Tom, and wonders how the two of them will get along.

"D'you think an ill person will really be up to the Defense position at Hogwarts?" Blaise asks skeptically. "He doesn't look so good..."

"Well," says Draco, "running out of options, aren't we?"

There is a grim silence in the compartment at that.

* * *

It starts raining hard as they travel farther north. Great drops hit the windows and fly down them with the wind. The world outside is a sheet of grey. It gets dark enough inside the compartments that the lanterns flicker magically to life above the luggage racks. Acacia sits back with her friends and discusses the fun that will be had at Hogsmeade, with young Astoria listening quietly.

Then, long before they're due to arrive in Hogsmeade, something odd happens. The train begins slowing down. It finally slides right down to a stop.

There's a chaos of confusion outside in the corridor; Acacia leans toward the window and wipes a circle of clearness in the fog of the pane. Tall, dark, hooded, cloaked figures are coming aboard the train...

"Someone's coming aboard," says Acacia. "They're tall, and wearing cloaks."

Draco pales. "Oh, no," he says.

"What is it?" Daphne asks, pulling her sister closer.

"They're the Azkaban guards," says Draco in quiet dread. "They have to be. They're coming on the train to search for Sirius Black."

"Black! But why would he be here? He'd have killed me already -" Acacia begins. Then the compartment door opens and someone falls in.

"What's going on? Does anyone know what's going on?" Neville Longbottom's terrified voice issues from the floor.

"No, you useless sack, no one has any idea what's -" Draco begins sarcastically, harshly.

"Draco!" Acacia scolds him.

"You don't get it." Draco's eyes are wild. "The Azkaban guards, they're not human -"

"What's going on?" a hoarse voice speaks from the corner. The Defense professor has woken up.

"Professor," says Daphne desperately, "Draco thinks the Azkaban guards are coming aboard the train."

Just at that moment, all the lamps on the train go out. Everything is plunged into blackness. There are some screams up and down the vehicle. A moment later, a hiss of fire emerges; the Professor's holding a handful of flame, standing warily. "Yes, it looks like it," he agrees quietly. "Stay here." He goes toward the compartment door.

"What are you going to do -?" Draco begins, rather rudely Acacia thinks, but the compartment door slides open before the Professor can so much as touch it.

A tall, blackly hooded creature is standing there. Its hand reaching out from underneath the folds of its cloak is grey, glistening, and scabby, like a corpse held underwater. It draws in a deep, rattling breath, and an intense cold falls over Acacia. She suddenly gets a horrible feeling, a despairing feeling, like she'll never be happy again.

Then she starts getting vicious flashbacks. Images flash before her mind - of Voldemort's red eyes, of her mother's screams, of her mother falling in a burst of green light...

Tom's voice suddenly rings out, clear and panicked, in her mind; he felt the assault from all the way at Hogwarts. _Acacia! _he says urgently. _You're being attacked by a Dementor! It reaches into the darkest parts of yourself! Channel your darkness - hold firm against it!_

And he helps her soul and mind, holding it up under the strain and the frigid, freezing chill... Acacia's knees shake and she grabs the seat beside her so hard it hurts her hand, but this is good, it awakens her to the world around her again...

Then the Professor has moved past her. He pulls out his wand. "None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks," he says with impressive calm. "Go." Then he mutters something, and a silvery wolf shoots out of the end of his wand. The Dementor shies back, and leaves immediately. The cold fades, and the light flickers back on in the lamp above them.

Acacia collapses, breathing hard, realizing suddenly that she hadn't been breathing at all. Tom fades from her mind. The Professor turns immediately and kneels down beside her, putting a hand on Acacia's shoulder.

"Acacia," says Draco, "are you alright?"

"I heard my mother," Acacia says softly, shaking and sweaty, cold and clammy. "I heard my mother screaming as she died."


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter Three: New Magic_

Soon after, the Dementors leave and the train ride gets underway again. It's like the whole thing never even happened: the train is warm and cheerful by the light of the lanterns, the rumbling of the train going on underneath them. Acacia has been sat, shaken, in a seat, Daphne sitting next to her and rubbing her back soothingly.

"Why would I hear my mother?" she asks hoarsely after a while. Neville Longbottom, huddled in the corner, looks terrified.

The Professor sighs. "The Dementors of Azkaban feed off of happy emotions and memories, eating them all up, until only the bad feelings and memories are left. Often, if a person's been through a traumatic experience, something that is definitively their _worst _memory, they experience it through flashbacks around the Dementors. Frankly, it's amazing you didn't faint."

"And they let those things guard our prison?" Acacia asks.

"It's seen as an effective deterrent," says the Professor, his mouth twisting in disagreement. "What better way to keep people in prison than to make them lose the will to go on, guarded by creatures who can sense their every feeling? Obviously it didn't work on Black; no one can figure out how he managed to escape without the Dementors noticing.

"Not all people agree with this practice. Dumbledore was very reluctant to let Dementors guard the school this year."

"The Dementors will be guarding the _school?" _Neville squeaks. (Draco rolls his eyes.)

"They'll be stationed around the perimeter," says the Professor, "and I think we all know why." Everyone looks at Acacia, who looks down in embarrassment. Everyone knows Black must be after her. "So be careful not to wander too close to the edge of the grounds."

"Who are you?" Acacia asks at last.

The Professor looks over at her in surprise, and then smiles slightly. "My name is Remus Lupin," he says. "I'm your new Defense instructor. Now, here." He takes two chocolate bars out of his pocket, breaks them into several pieces, and hands the pieces out to people. "Chocolate helps people recover from Dementor attacks. It's not as effective as a happy memory, but it'll do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go have a... _talk, _with the driver."

Professor Lupin leaves. Acacia tries the chocolate and immediately feels warmth, comforting warmth, start flowing again throughout her body.

* * *

They take the carriages through Hogsmeade and up to the castle. Dementors are flanking the gates, floating below the stone winged boars. Everything feels cold and dreary for a moment as they pass them, then as they get far enough away everything returns to normal.

Still shaking a little, Acacia gets out, and her friends help her into the entrance hall. "Potter! Granger!" Acacia looks up, and so does Hermione Granger farther on in the crowd. Professor McGonagall is standing at the top of the marble staircase, and Tom is behind her. Their eyes meet; his gaze seems angry and concerned, his face a white mask. "There's no need to look so worried - I just want a word in my office."

Professor McGonagall takes Hermione and Acacia toward her office. Acacia walks behind the rest with Tom. _Are you alright? _he asks through their mental link, and he touches her arm slightly, his contact warm and comforting.

_Yes. A little shaky, but alright. Professor Lupin explained. He gave us some chocolate to make us feel better._

This is the same thing Acacia ends up telling Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey - Lupin apparently sent an owl ahead saying she was ill. They want to keep her in the hospital wing, but when she laughs slightly and says that's ridiculous, they seem to drop the subject.

Professor McGonagall turns to Hermione. "And you, Miss Granger, we need to talk about your course schedule. Would you rather do it in private?"

"Oh, no, Professor, I don't mind them hearing," says Hermione, indicating Acacia and Tom.

"Alright. Miss Granger, you have signed up for every class at Hogwarts."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Obviously, you cannot take all these courses at once. You do not have enough time in the day for them. But I propose a solution. I wrote to the Ministry and asked them for the use of a Time Turner. Special circumstances - you're one of our best students. A Time Turner is a small device that can take you back in time, for just a few hours, making you able to be in two places at once. This is the only way you could take every class you want to." Professor McGonagall takes out a a tiny hourglass on a gold necklace chain. "Straight from the Department of Mysteries - the Ministry's magical research division. You turn the hourglass the amount of hours back you want to go."

"Fascinating," Tom murmurs.

"Now, the rest of you may leave for the start of term feast. I need to give Miss Granger a few warnings about the use of the Time Turner. Terrible things can happen to wizards who meddle with time."

* * *

Acacia slips into the Great Hall and next to Blaise at the Slytherin table in the middle of the Sorting. She's just in time to see Astoria Greengrass put on the hat. She sits there on the stool for several minutes, until at last the Hat shouts, "... SLYTHERIN!"

Everyone cheers and claps as Astoria, looking happy, jumps up and goes to sit beside her older sister at the Slytherin table.

A few more students are Sorted, and then the Sorting Hat is taken away, this time by Professor Flitwick. Then Dumbledore stands up to speak. As usual, he smiles whimsically.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast...

"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises - or even Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And his new TA, Nathaniel Gaunt."

There is some applause as Tom and Lupin stand. Everyone seems to be mistaken. Tom looks handsome and commanding, strong and healthy; people seem to think _he's _Lupin. "Our new teacher's so young," she hears one girl whisper. Acacia smiles, not bothering to correct them. They'll find out for themselves soon enough. She sees the other teachers give Tom wary looks.

"As to our second new appointment... Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Rubeus Hagrid gets very emotional, blushing and teary-eyed, as he too gets a round of applause.

The announcements end and the school settles down to its feast. The food is as good as usual - the house elves always outdo themselves. Acacia has fun laughing and talking with her friends, forgetting the summer's troubles and the incident on the train, feeling truly at home at last. She can understand Tom's love of Hogwarts - if she had grown up in such an environment, she would love a home away from home, too.

At the end of the feast, as she's walking down to the dungeons, she feels a hand on her arm and Professor Snape pulls her aside. "Sir?" she asks, looking questioningly up into his face.

Snape's face is impassive, but his lip is curled. "Be wary of Lupin," he responds after a moment. "We knew each other at school, and... he's more trouble than he's worth."

Acacia's surprised. "But he seems so nice," she says. "Certainly very knowledgeable."

"Yes," says Snape contemptuously, "he's good at keeping up such appearances."

As Acacia climbs into her fourposter later that night, watching the silver light shine dimly through the embroidered silk hangings, she wonders exactly what Snape meant. Remus Lupin seemed so shabby and serious-minded. What could possibly be so dangerous about him?

* * *

Acacia gets her friends to keep quiet about her collapse, but somehow - probably through Longbottom - word gets out of her weakness to Dementors anyway. Slightly ashamed of this and trying to run damage control, she spends the next few days telling anyone who will listen about hearing her mother screaming in her ears every time Dementors get near. This safely shifts the conversation away to concern and serious surprise, effectively putting a damper on the effect of anyone who tries to make fun of her. If she tells the truth, when they (read: Pansy) make fun of her, _they _look bad.

Pretty soon, it's all over the school that Dementors can make people relive their worst memories, and not even the ever-rebellious Weasley twins feel like trying the creatures anymore.

Wanting to go further, she asks Tom about how wizards fight off Dementors. "Child wizards can't," he replies matter of factly. "Adult wizards usually take two routes. Either they grow accustomed to the feeling of Dementors and learn to live off the hatred and fear inside them - I can see by your expression that this doesn't appeal to you. The other thing they do is learn the Patronus Charm. But the spell is incredibly complex. Most adult wizards can't perform it. I never bothered to learn; I tried the... other method."

So Acacia is also blocked off from the Patronus Charm. The fact that she's only in third year aside, she doesn't know anyone who can perform it. She considers asking Lupin, but decides she doesn't know him well enough yet - and besides, Snape's warning about him still rings in her ears.

She, of course, has four new classes in her first week. She has Divination, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Defense with Lupin and "Gaunt." As before, her fellow Slytherins help her find her way to her new classes on time.

Divination takes place up at the top of one of the towers. One climbs up a tight and spiraling stone staircase, to emerge out onto a tiny landing. Then they climb the silvery stepladder up through a trapdoor and into the Divination classroom.

Sibyll Trelawney's classroom is more individualized than any Acacia has yet seen so far. A faint scent of cooking sherry lingers about the place. It's covered in small, circular tables surrounded by poufs and chintz armchairs. The curtains closed over the windows are crimson, and the lamp shades are also draped with red scarves, giving a strange red light to the room. A fire is lit in the fireplace, making the room very warm. Over the fire is a copper kettle full of boiling water. The fire gives off a strange sort of perfume that immediately makes Acacia feel very sleepy.

She looks around herself and realizes no one else looks tired. Could the perfume in the fire be trying to bring out any latent Seeing abilities?

Professor Trelawney has a soft, soothing voice. She's very thin, with large glasses and countless gauzy shawls around her shoulders. Jewelry covers her: bangles, rings, chain and bead necklaces. She sparkles and tinkles every time she moves.

Professor Trelawney warns the class from the beginning: "If you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books will only take you so far in this field." She tells them the basic progression of the classes: tea leaves, then palmistry, then crystal balls. Professor Trelawney likes to puncture her classes with doomsday pronouncements and mysterious foretellings aimed at unnerved individual students.

She has the students partner up, drink a cup of tea, and then read the tea dregs in the bottom as symbols using their copies of _Unfogging the Future_. Acacia partners up with Daphne, who's also taking this class, but she has trouble concentrating - the perfume in the fire keeps making her want to go to sleep.

Finally, she raises her hand and calls Professor Trelawney over. "Professor - can I speak to you outside?"

Professor Trelawney raises her eyebrows, but says, "Yes, dear... Of course..."

They walk outside and climb down the ladder into the corridor. The minute she's in the clear, cool air, Acacia feels calmer - awake again.

"Professor -" she begins.

"You're going to tell me that you had trouble concentrating because of the potion I put into the fire," says Professor Trelawney simply.

"Er - yes. It keeps making me want to go to sleep. Ma'am, I've actually been having odd dreams for years... Dreams that seem to hint at things to come... And I think that's why your - your Seeing potion - might make me want to go to sleep."

Professor Trelawney nods. "Can you tell me about these dreams?" she asks simply.

Acacia tells her - about Mary's illness, and about the dreams that have come after, that have predicted her encounters with Hogwarts and Voldemort. The more she talks, the more Professor Trelawney gets excited.

"Yes!" she says, uncharacteristically enthused. "Yes, exactly! This is exactly what I'm looking for!"

"Professor, is there a reason why my dreams are always so... morbid?" Acacia asks.

"They seem to be warnings," says Professor Trelawney, her bug-like eyes bright and glittering with interest. "You are lucky, Miss Potter. One of the lucky few who seems to have the power to change what will happen to you. Not all Seers have this gift. You saw your godmother dying, and yet because of you she did not die. This is remarkable!"

"I just wish they weren't all in... symbols," says Acacia.

"The future can come to us in mysterious ways," says Professor Trelawney, nodding. "But we can learn to interpret those symbols - that is the point of this class."

"So... my dream about the rat and the snake skull... what do you think it means?" asks Acacia nervously.

"Well, it could be taken literally or figuratively. Rats are often a symbol of untrustworthy people, but snakes can kill them. So an untrustworthy person could be returning to one who has the power to destroy them. On a literal level, you could just need to watch out for rats retreating to snakes. Do you know of any rats?"

"Ron Weasley has one..." says Acacia slowly. "But why would I need to be wary of somebody's pet?"

"I'm not sure, dear... Sometimes we must wait for the future to divulge itself..." Professor Trelawney's brow has furrowed. "Let us go back into the classroom... Would you like me to read your cup?"

So Trelawney and Acacia go back up and bend over her cup together, Trelawney swirling the dregs around expertly. "Let the perfume wash over you..." she whispers soothingly. "Let your mind fall into a kind of stupor, but without going to sleep..."

Acacia's eyelids sag, and then something odd happens. It's like everything around her is blurred, except for what she's directly looking at, which becomes a very intense point of focus. All of a sudden, the symbols in the cup become clearer to her.

"I see a falcon..." says Acacia, and everyone pauses to stare at her in surprise because they'd been squinting in befuddlement at their own cups, "... a club... a skull... and a dog."

She looks up, coming back to the teacher again. Trelawney looks pale, horrified. "I take it those aren't good signs," says Acacia dryly.

"The falcon is a deadly enemy. The club is an attack. The skull signifies danger..."

"But I saw a skull too! In my dream!" says Acacia excitedly. "So the snake... he's my enemy. He's going to attack me!"

Trelawney pauses, looking thoughtful. "So the snake could signify a person... But who could that person be?"

Acacia thinks for a moment. "Well," she says reluctantly at last, "You Know Who looks like a snake." The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense. The rat will be returning to the snake. The rat has to be an old servant. But Sirius Black... he didn't look very rat-like in his pictures. Could he be the rat?

"Well, then, my dear," says Trelawney slowly, sadly, "this last symbol is very grave indeed. A great black dog... the Grim... the symbol of death."

Someone in the silent classroom gasps, and now Trelawney is not the only one who looks pale.

"Another animal, though," says Acacia thoughtfully. "It doesn't have to be. It could just mean I have to watch out for a great black dog."

Trelawney looks at her for a long moment. "I cannot decide," she says at last, "whether you are stupid or brilliant." Acacia flushes and there are a few sniggers. "No, you don't understand, my dear," says Trelawney, putting a hand on her shoulder. "For a Seer, that is a very great thing."

As she's leaving the Divination classroom later - heading to McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom, where they'll perhaps fittingly be discussing Animagi, wizards who can transform themselves at will into animals, of which McGonagall is one (she can become a cat) - Acacia has a lot to think about. But she's not as worried as she could have been. Who is the dog and who is the rat? If she can figure that out... Well, Trelawney said it herself.

If she can figure that out, she can change whatever's about to happen.

* * *

Her other two elective classes are less eventful, but still just as interesting.

Arithmancy is taught by a very strict witch named Septima Vector. She is rumored to be one of the most powerful witches, and one of the most strict teachers, at Hogwarts.

"Arithmancy studies the magical properties of numbers," she announces, writing it on the board, as they all scramble to get out parchment and quills. "It is a form of divination, but complex enough that it was given its own classes. Numbers equate to words or phrases, in this case words or phrases in the Latin alphabet.

"You will have three essays over the course of the semester. In each case, you will have to write three versions of the essay. The first will be in English, the second in Latin, and the third in the numbers that equate to the Latin phrases. The essays will get progressively more complex over the course of the year."

There is a rather intimidated silence, which Professor Vector fills by setting them to a rather fun exercise, in which they're each given a numerological chart and a list of Latin characters and start trying to figure out the numerological significance of their names. The more numbers are added up to spell their name, the more magically powerful their names are.

"This seems a bit childish, but think of the applications in spell-making!" Professor Vector says. "Wizards and witches creating new spells use Arithmancy to ensure their spells have as much magical significance as possible! We will go through much magical theory in this class, more than you got in any of your core classes, and we will have a whole unit on spell creation."

Acacia decides that if she doesn't fail this class, it may be extremely invaluable. Emphasis on _if._

The Study of Ancient Runes is taught by a bright, cheery, and slightly absent minded witch with a round face named Bathsheba Babbling.

"Here," she says, "we will be studying the runes used in ancient texts and translating them into modern languages."

Acacia raises her hand. "Don't many runes have magical significance?"

"That's right!" Professor Babbling beams and nods. "And we will be discussing that." This class, too, will have a whole unit on how to use runes to create magic, particularly in curses, defenses, and communication magic.

And then the only "new class" Acacia hasn't had yet is Defense.


End file.
